‘Thank you,’ said Jean; ‘he’s coming along presently.’ And, through her lashes, she looked at him draining his glass thoughtfully.
‘Have you any news for me?’
‘I’ve seen Walter.’
‘Walter?’
‘The Home Secretary.’
‘How terribly nice of you!’
‘It was. Can’t bear the fellow. Got a head like an egg, except for his hair.’
‘What did he say?’
‘Young lady, nobody in any official department ever says anything. He always “thinks it over”. Administration has to be like that.’
‘But of course he’ll pay attention to what you said. What did you say?’
Lord Saxenden’s iced eyes seemed to answer: ‘Really, you know, really!’
But Jean smiled; and the eyes thawed gradually.
‘You’re the most direct young woman I’ve ever come across. As a matter of fact I said: “Stop it, Walter.” ’
‘How splendid!’
‘He didn’t like it. He’s a “just beast”.’
‘Could I see him?’
Lord Saxenden began to laugh. He laughed like a man who has come across the priceless.
Jean waited for him to finish, and said:
‘Then I shall.’
The partridge filled the ensuing gap.
‘Look here!’ said Lord Saxenden, suddenly: ‘If you really mean that, there’s one man who might wangle you an interview – Bobbie Ferrar. He used to be with Walter when he was Foreign Secretary. I’ll give you a chit to Bobbie. Have a sweet?’
‘No, thank you. But I should like some coffee, please. There’s Hubert!’
Just free of the revolving cage, which formed the door, was Hubert, evidently in search of his wife.
‘Bring him over here!’
Jean looked intently at her husband. His face cleared, and he came towards them.
‘You’ve got the eye all right,’ murmured Lord Saxenden, rising. ‘How de do? You’ve married a remarkable wife. Have some coffee? The brandy’s good here.’ And taking out a card he wrote on it in a hand both neat and clear:
‘Robert Ferrar, Esq., F.O., Whitehall. Dear Bobbie, do see my young friend Mrs Hubert Charwell and get her an interview with Walter if at all possible. Saxenden.’
Then, handing it to Jean, he asked the waiter for his bill.
‘Hubert,’ said Jean, ‘show Lord Saxenden your scar,’ and, undoing the link of his cuff, she pushed up his sleeve. That livid streak stared queer and sinister above the tablecloth.
‘H’m!’ said Lord Saxenden: ‘useful wipe, that.’
Hubert wriggled his arm back under cover. ‘She still takes liberties,’ he said.
Lord Saxenden paid his bill and handed Hubert a cigar.
‘Forgive me if I run off now. Stay and finish your coffee. Good-bye and good luck to you both!’ And, shaking their hands, he threaded his way out among the tables. The two young people gazed after him.
‘Such delicacy,’ said Hubert, ‘is not his known weakness, I believe. Well, Jean?’
Jean looked up.
‘What does F.O. mean?’
‘Foreign Office, my country girl.’
‘Finish your brandy, and we’ll go and see this man.’
But in the courtyard a voice behind them said:
‘Why! Captain! Miss Tasburgh!’
‘My wife, Professor.’
Hallorsen seized their hands.
‘Isn’t that just wonderful? I’ve a cablegram in my pocket, Captain, that’s as good as a wedding present.’
Over Hubert’s shoulder, Jean read out: ‘ “Exonerating statement sworn by Manuel mailed stop American Consulate La Paz.” That’s splendid, Professor. Will you come with us and see a man at the Foreign Office about this?’
‘Surely. I don’t want any grass to grow. Let’s take an automobile.’
Opposite to them in the cab he radiated surprised benevolence.
‘You were mighty quick off the mark, Captain.’
‘That was Jean.’
‘Yes,’ said Hallorsen, as if she were not present, ‘when I met her at Lippinghall I thought she could move. Is your sister pleased?’
‘Is she, Jean?’
‘Rather!’
‘A wonderful young lady. There’s something good in low buildings. This Whitehall of yours makes me feel fine. The more sun and stars you can see from a street the more moral sense there is to the people. Were you married in a stovepipe hat, Captain?’
‘No; just as I am now.’
‘I’m sorry about that. They seem to me so cunning; like carrying a lost cause about on your head. I believe you are of an old family, too, Mrs Cherrell. Your habit over here of families that serve their country from father to son is inspiring, Captain.’