Atlee bit his lips with anger at the sarcasm, but went on, ‘I infer you are not aware of the exact share subordinates have had in what you call Lord Danesbury’s Irish blunders—’
‘Pardon my interrupting you, but a really able man has no subordinates. His inferior agents are so thoroughly absorbed by his own individuality that they have no wills—no instincts—and, therefore, they can do no indiscretions They are the simple emanations of himself in action.’
‘In Turkey, perhaps,’ said Atlee, with a smile.
‘If in Turkey, why not in England, or, at least, in Ireland? If you are well served—and mind, you must be well served, or you are powerless—you can always in political life see the adversary’s hand. That he sees yours, is of course true: the great question then is, how much you mean to mislead him by the showing it? I give you an instance: Lord Danesbury’s cleverest stroke in policy here, the one hit probably he made in the East, was to have a private correspondence with the Khedive made known to the Russian embassy, and induce Gortschakoff to believe that he could not trust the Pasha! All the Russian preparations to move down on the Provinces were countermanded. The stores of grain that were being made on the Pruth were arrested, and three, nearly four weeks elapsed before the mistake was discovered, and in that interval England had reinforced the squadron at Malta, and taken steps to encourage Turkey—always to be done by money, or promise of money.’
‘It was a coup of great adroitness,’ said Atlee.
‘It was more,’ cried the Greek, with elation. ‘It was a move of such subtlety as smacks of something higher than the Saxon! The men who do these things have the instinct of their craft. It is theirs to understand that chemistry of human motives by which a certain combination results in effects totally remote from the agents that produce it. Can you follow me?’
‘I believe I can.’
‘I would rather say, Is my attempt at an explanation sufficiently clear to be intelligible?’
Atlee looked fixedly at him, and he could do so unobserved, for the other was now occupied in preparing his pipe, without minding the question. Therefore Atlee set himself to study the features before him. It was evident enough, from the intensity of his gaze and a certain trembling of his upper lip, that the scrutiny cost him no common effort. It was, in fact, the effort to divine what, if he mistook to read aright, would be an irreparable blunder.
With the long-drawn inspiration a man makes before he adventures a daring feat, he said: ‘It is time I should be candid with you, Prince. It is time I should tell you that I am in Greece only to see you.’