“He tells me in the note I received last night that you did nothing of the kind.”

“Then he’s a liar.  He forgot all about it and did nothing.  When the Air Force sent to get the stuff the truck was empty.”

“And you want me to find it, I suppose?”

“Yes.  The quicker the better!”

“And be a party to breaking Catesby?  I like my job, but not that much!”

“You refuse then to hunt for the TNT?”

“I take my orders straight from the Administrator.  He expects me in half an hour.  You want me to smooth the way for you with Sir Louis.  I’m much more interested in Catesby, who would face a firing party sooner than soak another fellow for his own fault.  Catesby assures me in writing that the first he ever heard of that TNT was when you ordered him arrested after discovery of the loss.  His word goes, as far as I’m concerned.  If you want me to help you, find another goat than Catesby.  That’s my answer.”

There followed quite a long pause.  Perhaps Brigadier-General Jenkins was wondering what chance he would stand in a show-down.  Whoever had heard the mess and canteen gossip knew that Jenkins’ career had been one long string of miracles by which he had attained promotion without in any way deserving it, and a parallel series of even greater ones by which he had saved himself from ruin by contriving to blame some one else.

“You want me to white-wash Catesby?” he said at last.  “If you pounce quickly on the TNT, no one need know it was lost.”

“If you court-martial Catesby, the public shall know who lost it, and who didn’t, even if it costs me my commission!”

“Blast you!  Insubordination!”

“Is your car outside?” Grim answered.  “Why don’t you drive me up to the Administrator and charge me with it?”

“Don’t be an idiot!  I came to you to avoid a scandal.  If this news gets out there’ll be a panic.  Things are touchy enough as it is.”

“Yes.”

“Well—­if I drop the charge against Catesby—?”

“Then I shall not have to fight for him.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Be definite!”

“Damn and blast you!  All right, I’ll clear Catesby.”

In that ominous minute, like the devil in an old-time drama, Suliman knocked at the door leading from the outer hall.  Grim opened it, and I heard the boy’s voice piping up in Arabic.  The Administrator was in his car outside, waiting to know whether Major Grim was indoors.

“Where’s your car?” I heard Grim ask.

“I sent the man to get a tire changed,” Jenkins answered.

“Then Sir Louis needn’t know you’re here.  Do you want to see him?”

“Of course not.”

“You can get behind that screen if you like.”