"You don't know where."
"Quite right, sir," and Randell departed for the station.
"Quite right!" groaned Stanley as he sought the Sanctum Sanctorum of the Legation. "I only wish it were!"
CHAPTER VIII
DIPLOMATIC INSTRUCTIONS
Mr. Stanley's Chief was a grey, weazened little man, who had achieved distinction in diplomacy and in his country's councils, largely on account of his infinite capacity for holding his tongue. As a result he let fall little and learned much. His reticence, however, was not the reserve of impotence, but the reserve of power.
On this occasion he was busy at his great desk, which occupied the centre of the room, and merely glancing up at his Secretary's entrance, he resumed the piece of work on which he was engaged. Ten minutes later he put down his pen and gave his waiting subordinate an encouraging smile. It was his official permission to speak.
"I regret to say that I have got into a little scrape, sir, concerning which will you give me leave to clear myself?"
"Leave of absence or my approval, Mr. Stanley?"