“I don’t suppose she’ll stay after this,” said Pagett.
“You always were a cheerful fellow,” I said.
I expect I shall have to go back to England. Pagett clearly intends that I shall. And there is Caroline to pacify.
Three days later.
It is incredible to me that any one who can get away from England in winter does not do so! It is an abominable climate. All this trouble is very annoying. The house-agents say it will be next to impossible to let the Mill House after all the publicity. Caroline has been pacified—with double pay. We could have sent her a cable to that effect from Cannes. In fact, as I have said all along, there was no earthly purpose to serve by our coming over. I shall go back to-morrow.
One day later.
Several very surprising things have occurred. To begin with, I met Augustus Milray, the most perfect example of an old ass the present Government has produced. His manner oozed diplomatic secrecy as he drew me aside in the Club into a quiet corner. He talked a good deal. About South Africa and the industrial situation there. About the growing rumours of a strike on the Rand. Of the secret causes actuating that strike. I listened as patiently as I could. Finally, he dropped his voice to a whisper and explained that certain documents had come to light which ought to be placed in the hands of General Smuts.
“I’ve no doubt you’re quite right,” I said, stifling a yawn.
“But how are we to get them to him? Our position in the matter is delicate—very delicate.”
“What’s wrong with the post?” I said cheerfully. “Put a two-penny stamp on and drop ’em in the nearest letter-box.”