Okewood of the Secret Service [35]
and the door swung slowly back, revealing an old woman, swathed in a long shawl and holding high in her hand a lamp as she peered out into the darkness.
"Good evening, Martha," said Desmond, and stepped into the house.
Save for Martha's lamp, the lobby was in darkness, but light was streaming into the hall from the half open door of a room leading off it at the far end. While Martha, wheezing asthmatically, bolted the front door, Desmond went towards the room where the light was and walked in.
It was a small sitting-room, lined with bookshelves, illuminated by an oil lamp which stood on a little table beside a chintz-covered settee which had been drawn up in front of the dying fire.
On the settee Nur-el-Din was lying asleep.
CHAPTER X. D. O. R. A. IS BAFFLED
When Barbara reached the Chief's ante-room she found it full of people. Mr. Marigold was there, chatting with Captain Strangwise who seemed to be just taking his leave; there was a short, fat, Jewish-looking man, very resplendently dressed with a large diamond pin in his cravat and a small, insignificant looking gentleman with a gray moustache and the red rosette of the Legion of Honor in his button-hole. Matthews came out of the Chief's room as Barbara entered the outer office.
"Miss Mackwayte," he said, "we are all so shocked and so very, sorry..."
"Mr. Matthews," she said hastily in a low voice, "never mind about that now. I must see the Chief at once. It is most urgent."
Matthews gesticulated with his arm round the room.
"All these people, excepting the officer there, are waiting to see him, Miss, and he's got a dinner engagement at eight..."
"It is urgent, Mr. Matthews, I tell you. If you won't take my name in, I shall go in myself!"
"Miss Mackwayte, I daren't interrupt him now. Do you know who's with him...?"
Strangwise crossed the room to where Barbara was standing.
"I can guess what brings you here, Miss Mackwayte," he said gently. "I hope you will allow me to express my condolences'...?"
The girl shrank back, almost imperceptibly, yet Strangwise, whose eyes were fixed on her pale face, noticed the spontaneous recoil. The sunshine seemed to fade out of his debonair countenance, and for a moment Barbara Mackwayte saw Maurice Strangwise as very few people had ever seen him, stern and cold and hard, without a vestige of his constant smile. But the shadow lifted as quickly as it had fallen. His face had resumed its habitually engaging expression as he murmured:
"Believe me, I am truly sorry for you!"
"Thank you, thank you!" Barbara said hastily and brushed past him. She walked straight across the room to the door of the Chief's room, turned the handle and walked in.
The room was in darkness save for an electric reading lamp on the desk which threw a beam of light on the faces of two men thrust close together in eager conversation. One was the Chief, the other a face that Barbara knew well from the illustrated papers.
At the sound of the door opening, the Chief sprang to his feet.
"Oh, it's Miss Mackwayte," he said, and added something in a low voice to the other man who had risen to his feet. "My dear," he continued aloud to Barbara, "I will see you immediately; we must not be disturbed now. Matthews should have told you."
"Chief," cried Barbara, her hands clasped convulsively together, "you must hear me now. What I have to say cannot wait. Oh, you must hear me!"
The Chief looked as embarrassed as a man usually looks when he is appealed to in a busy moment by an extremely attractive girl.
"Miss Mackwayte," he said firmly but with great courtesy, "you must wait outside. I know how unnerved you are by all that you have gone through, but I am engaged just now. I shall be free presently."
"It is about my father, Chief," Barbara said in a trembling voice, "I have found out what they came to get!"
"Ah!" said the Chief and the other man simultaneously.
"We had better hear what she has to say!" said the other man, "but won't you introduce me first?"
"This is Sir Bristowe Marr, the First
"Good evening, Martha," said Desmond, and stepped into the house.
Save for Martha's lamp, the lobby was in darkness, but light was streaming into the hall from the half open door of a room leading off it at the far end. While Martha, wheezing asthmatically, bolted the front door, Desmond went towards the room where the light was and walked in.
It was a small sitting-room, lined with bookshelves, illuminated by an oil lamp which stood on a little table beside a chintz-covered settee which had been drawn up in front of the dying fire.
On the settee Nur-el-Din was lying asleep.
CHAPTER X. D. O. R. A. IS BAFFLED
When Barbara reached the Chief's ante-room she found it full of people. Mr. Marigold was there, chatting with Captain Strangwise who seemed to be just taking his leave; there was a short, fat, Jewish-looking man, very resplendently dressed with a large diamond pin in his cravat and a small, insignificant looking gentleman with a gray moustache and the red rosette of the Legion of Honor in his button-hole. Matthews came out of the Chief's room as Barbara entered the outer office.
"Miss Mackwayte," he said, "we are all so shocked and so very, sorry..."
"Mr. Matthews," she said hastily in a low voice, "never mind about that now. I must see the Chief at once. It is most urgent."
Matthews gesticulated with his arm round the room.
"All these people, excepting the officer there, are waiting to see him, Miss, and he's got a dinner engagement at eight..."
"It is urgent, Mr. Matthews, I tell you. If you won't take my name in, I shall go in myself!"
"Miss Mackwayte, I daren't interrupt him now. Do you know who's with him...?"
Strangwise crossed the room to where Barbara was standing.
"I can guess what brings you here, Miss Mackwayte," he said gently. "I hope you will allow me to express my condolences'...?"
The girl shrank back, almost imperceptibly, yet Strangwise, whose eyes were fixed on her pale face, noticed the spontaneous recoil. The sunshine seemed to fade out of his debonair countenance, and for a moment Barbara Mackwayte saw Maurice Strangwise as very few people had ever seen him, stern and cold and hard, without a vestige of his constant smile. But the shadow lifted as quickly as it had fallen. His face had resumed its habitually engaging expression as he murmured:
"Believe me, I am truly sorry for you!"
"Thank you, thank you!" Barbara said hastily and brushed past him. She walked straight across the room to the door of the Chief's room, turned the handle and walked in.
The room was in darkness save for an electric reading lamp on the desk which threw a beam of light on the faces of two men thrust close together in eager conversation. One was the Chief, the other a face that Barbara knew well from the illustrated papers.
At the sound of the door opening, the Chief sprang to his feet.
"Oh, it's Miss Mackwayte," he said, and added something in a low voice to the other man who had risen to his feet. "My dear," he continued aloud to Barbara, "I will see you immediately; we must not be disturbed now. Matthews should have told you."
"Chief," cried Barbara, her hands clasped convulsively together, "you must hear me now. What I have to say cannot wait. Oh, you must hear me!"
The Chief looked as embarrassed as a man usually looks when he is appealed to in a busy moment by an extremely attractive girl.
"Miss Mackwayte," he said firmly but with great courtesy, "you must wait outside. I know how unnerved you are by all that you have gone through, but I am engaged just now. I shall be free presently."
"It is about my father, Chief," Barbara said in a trembling voice, "I have found out what they came to get!"
"Ah!" said the Chief and the other man simultaneously.
"We had better hear what she has to say!" said the other man, "but won't you introduce me first?"
"This is Sir Bristowe Marr, the First