of the Indian went up in a shrug. "They will stand you before a wall, Cap-tain Wood-house. And fire. It is the price of in-discretion at a time like this."
Woodhouse's right hand whipped back to his holster, which hung from his sword belt, and came forward again with a thick, short-barreled weapon in it.
"Give me those plans, you yellow hound!"
"Shoot!" Jaimihr Khan smiled. "Add one in-discretion to another. Shoot, my youthful fool!"
The door to General CrandalFs room opened, and the general, in uniform evening dress, stepped into the library. Woodhouse swiftly slipped his revolver behind his back, though keeping it ready for instant use.
"All ready. Captain. Smoke." The general extended his cigarette case toward Woodhouse.
The latter smilingly declined, his eyes all the while on the Indian, who stood by the corner of the general's desk. Between the sleek brown hands a tiny blue roll of paper was twisting into a narrower wisp under the careless manipulation of thin fingers.
"Well, Jaimihr," Crandall briskly addressed
