He pushed a
chair towards him and indicated with a gesture of invitation a box
of cigars upon his desk.
"Your little Laranagas," he observed. "Try one."
The visitor opened the box, sniffed at its contents, and helped
himself.
"Now, then, get at it, Henry," he enjoined. "I've a Board in
half-an-hour, and three dispatches to read before I go in. What's
your trouble?"
"Look here, Rayton," was the firm reply, "I want to chuck this
infernal hole-and-corner business. I tell you I've worked it
threadbare at Dreymarsh and it's getting jolly uncomfortable."
The newcomer grinned.
"Poor chap!" he observed, watching his cigar smoke curl upwards.
"You're in a nasty mess, you know, Henry. Did I tell you that I
had a letter from your wife the other day, asking me if I couldn't
find you a job?"
Sir Henry waited a little grimly, whilst his friend enjoyed the
joke.
"That's all very well," he said, "but we are on the point of a
separation, or something of the sort. I'll admit it was all right
at first to run the thing on the Q.T., but that's pretty well busted
up by now. Why, according to your own reports, they know all about
me on the other side."
"Not a doubt about it," the other agreed. "I'm not sure that you
haven't got a spy fellow down at Dreymarsh now."
"I'm quite sure of it," Sir Henry replied grimly.
Pages:
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155