“I am under instructions not to say.”
“Don’t answer me like that. Produce your warrant.”
“Sir, excuse me, no warrant is required under these particular circumstances. Refer to Mr. McBryde.”
“Very well, so we will. Come along, Aziz, old man; nothing to fuss about, some blunder.”
“Dr. Aziz, will you kindly come?—a closed conveyance stands in readiness.”
The young man sobbed—his first sound—and tried to escape out of the opposite door on to the line.
“That will compel me to use force,” Mr. Haq wailed.
“Oh, for God’s sake——” cried Fielding, his own nerves breaking under the contagion, and pulled him back before a scandal started, and shook him like a baby. A second later, and he would have been out, whistles blowing, a man-hunt. . . . “Dear fellow, we’re coming to McBryde together, and enquire what’s gone wrong—he’s a decent fellow, it’s all unintentional . . . he’ll apologize. Never, never act the criminal.”
“My children and my name!” he gasped, his wings broken.
“Nothing of the sort. Put your hat straight and take my arm. I’ll see you through.”