“It is understood, then, that you will act for us,” he said, refolding the map carefully into its creases, “if it becomes necessary.”
“If it becomes necessary—yes,” said Carew, reaching for his cloak, “but I would prefer that you arranged this affair without my assistance. I have a scheme of my own on hand, and I am anxious to get back to my work.”
“You can do your work and ours at the same time.”
But Carew shook his head. “Not conscientiously,” he said as he rose to go, “and besides, you want me to go south. I want to go west.”
The General glanced up with sudden interest from the notes he was hastily scrawling in a bulky pocket-book. “The City of Stones?” he suggested, with the suspicion of a chuckle in his voice.
“Yes, the City of Stones,” the other admitted slowly, “but how did you know?”
The General laughed. “I didn’t know. I guessed. It is a sufficiently impossible undertaking that would naturally appeal to you. I have been wondering when you would attempt it.”
Carew made a gesture of dissent. “I don’t think it impossible.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” returned Sanois dryly, “but it is impossible for all that. Many people have attempted to penetrate into that very intriguing and mysterious city—it has been told me that the charming inhabitants use their bones to form a unique and picturesque embellishment to their battlements.”
Carew swung his heavy cloak over his shoulders. “They are welcome to my bones,” he laughed, “the probable alternative being jackals.”