Okewood of the Secret Service [25]
speak about it yet."
She pulled a chair over for him arid began to talk about the Chief.
"There's not the least need for you to worry," she said with a little woeful smile, like a sun-ray piercing a rain-cloud, "if the Chief says 'Go back to France and wait for instructions,' you may be sure that everything is arranged, and you will receive your orders in due course. So shall I. That's the Chief all over. Until you know him, you think he loves mystery for mystery's sake. It isn't that at all. He just doesn't trust us. He trusts nobody!"
"But that hardly semis fair to us..." began Desmond.
"It's merely a precaution," replied Barbara, "the Chief takes no risks. I've not the least doubt that he has decided to tell you nothing whatsoever about your part until you are firmly settled in your new role. I'm perfectly certain that every detail of your part has already been worked out."
"Oh, that's not possible," said Desmond. "Why, he didn't know until an hour ago that I was going to take on this job."
Barbara laughed.
"The Chief has taught me a lot about judging men by their looks," she said: "Personally, if I'd been in the Chief's places I should have gone ahead without consulting you, too."
The girl spoke with such directness that there was not the least suggestion of a compliment in her remark, but Desmond blushed to the roots of his hair. Barbara noticed it and added hastily:
"I'm not trying to pay you a compliment: I'm just judging by your type. I believe I can always tell the man that will take on any job, however dangerous, and carry it through to the end."
Desmond blushed more furiously than ever.
He made haste to divert the conversation into a safer channel.
"Well," he said slowly, "seeing that you and I were intended to work together, it seems to me to be a most extraordinary coincidence our meeting like that last night..."
"It was more than a coincidence," said Barbara, shaking her dark brown head. "Forty-eight hours ago I'd never heard of you, then the Chief gave me a telegram to send to your Divisional General summoning you home, after that he told me that we were to work together, and a few hours later I run into you in Nur-el-Din's dressing-room..."
She broke off suddenly, her gray eyes big with fear. She darted across the room to an ormolu table as which her handbag was lying. With astonishment, Desmond watched her unceremoniously spill out the contents on to the table and rake hastily amongst the collection of articles which a pretty girl carries round in her bag.
Presently she raised herself erect and turning, faced the officer. She was trembling as though with cold and when she spoke, her voice was low and husky.
"Gone!" she whispered.
"Have you lost anything" Desmond asked anxiously.
"How could I have forgotten it?" she went on as though he had not spoken, "how could I have forgotten it? Nearly twelve hours wasted, and it explains everything. What will the Chief think of me!"
Slowly she sank down on the sofa where she had been sitting, then, without any warning, dropped her head into her hands and burst into tears.
Desmond went over to her.
"Please don't cry," he said gently, "you have borne up so bravely against this terrible blow; you must try and not let it overwhelm you."
All her business-like calm had disappeared now she was that most distracting of all pictures of woman, a pretty girl overwhelmed with grief. She crouched curled upon the sofa, with shoulders heaving, sobbing as though her heart would break.
"Perhaps you would like me to leave you?" Desmond asked. "Let me ring for your friends... I am sure you would rather be alone!"
She raised a tear-stained face to his, her long lashes glittering.
"No, no," she said, "don't go, don't go! I want your help. This is such a dark and dreadful business, more than I ever realized. Oh, my poor daddy, my poor daddy!"
Again she hid her face in her hands and cried whilst Desmond stood erect by her aide, compassionate but very helpless.
After a little, she dabbed her eyes with a tiny square
She pulled a chair over for him arid began to talk about the Chief.
"There's not the least need for you to worry," she said with a little woeful smile, like a sun-ray piercing a rain-cloud, "if the Chief says 'Go back to France and wait for instructions,' you may be sure that everything is arranged, and you will receive your orders in due course. So shall I. That's the Chief all over. Until you know him, you think he loves mystery for mystery's sake. It isn't that at all. He just doesn't trust us. He trusts nobody!"
"But that hardly semis fair to us..." began Desmond.
"It's merely a precaution," replied Barbara, "the Chief takes no risks. I've not the least doubt that he has decided to tell you nothing whatsoever about your part until you are firmly settled in your new role. I'm perfectly certain that every detail of your part has already been worked out."
"Oh, that's not possible," said Desmond. "Why, he didn't know until an hour ago that I was going to take on this job."
Barbara laughed.
"The Chief has taught me a lot about judging men by their looks," she said: "Personally, if I'd been in the Chief's places I should have gone ahead without consulting you, too."
The girl spoke with such directness that there was not the least suggestion of a compliment in her remark, but Desmond blushed to the roots of his hair. Barbara noticed it and added hastily:
"I'm not trying to pay you a compliment: I'm just judging by your type. I believe I can always tell the man that will take on any job, however dangerous, and carry it through to the end."
Desmond blushed more furiously than ever.
He made haste to divert the conversation into a safer channel.
"Well," he said slowly, "seeing that you and I were intended to work together, it seems to me to be a most extraordinary coincidence our meeting like that last night..."
"It was more than a coincidence," said Barbara, shaking her dark brown head. "Forty-eight hours ago I'd never heard of you, then the Chief gave me a telegram to send to your Divisional General summoning you home, after that he told me that we were to work together, and a few hours later I run into you in Nur-el-Din's dressing-room..."
She broke off suddenly, her gray eyes big with fear. She darted across the room to an ormolu table as which her handbag was lying. With astonishment, Desmond watched her unceremoniously spill out the contents on to the table and rake hastily amongst the collection of articles which a pretty girl carries round in her bag.
Presently she raised herself erect and turning, faced the officer. She was trembling as though with cold and when she spoke, her voice was low and husky.
"Gone!" she whispered.
"Have you lost anything" Desmond asked anxiously.
"How could I have forgotten it?" she went on as though he had not spoken, "how could I have forgotten it? Nearly twelve hours wasted, and it explains everything. What will the Chief think of me!"
Slowly she sank down on the sofa where she had been sitting, then, without any warning, dropped her head into her hands and burst into tears.
Desmond went over to her.
"Please don't cry," he said gently, "you have borne up so bravely against this terrible blow; you must try and not let it overwhelm you."
All her business-like calm had disappeared now she was that most distracting of all pictures of woman, a pretty girl overwhelmed with grief. She crouched curled upon the sofa, with shoulders heaving, sobbing as though her heart would break.
"Perhaps you would like me to leave you?" Desmond asked. "Let me ring for your friends... I am sure you would rather be alone!"
She raised a tear-stained face to his, her long lashes glittering.
"No, no," she said, "don't go, don't go! I want your help. This is such a dark and dreadful business, more than I ever realized. Oh, my poor daddy, my poor daddy!"
Again she hid her face in her hands and cried whilst Desmond stood erect by her aide, compassionate but very helpless.
After a little, she dabbed her eyes with a tiny square