"It would be a foolish thing to mention the affair directly to the Foreign Secretary at all. Officially I could not listen to you for a moment. I can only listen to you now because I am interested in stories of any light kind. But if you are asking my advice purely to get your local colour right——"
"That's it," Harold said eagerly. "If it were true, which is the proper course to pursue?"
"I see you are a born novelist," Rashburn smiled shrewdly. "Well, in these matters there are intermediaries, rich men who are ready to sacrifice their purse for their country. Most of these men have strong claims on the Government of the day. Some of them become Commissioners, of this, that, and the other, and have letters after their names. Some become baronets, or even members of the Upper House. There is Mr. Gerald Parkford, for instance. He is over there talking to the lady in the yellow satin. I understand that he is deeply interested in problems of this kind, and has frequently done the State some service, at a considerable loss to himself. Some day his wife will wear a coronet. Purely out of regard for your story I will introduce you to Parkford, and then you will be able to bring the tale to a logical conclusion. Of course you will see that if this were anything but fiction it would have been a gross impertinence of you to have mentioned it to me."
"Of course, my lord," Harold said humbly, and carefully avoiding Rashburn's eyes. "If your lordship will be so kind as to make me known to Mr. Parkford——"
"I will do that with the greatest possible pleasure. I shall catch his eye presently. Ah, I thought so."
The little keen, brown-faced man opposite looked up presently, and at a sign from Rashburn excused himself to his fair companion, and crossed the floor. Rashburn explained the situation in a few words.
"I understand you are fond of adventures of this kind," he said. "For the sake of my friend here, and for the sake of his book, you will give him the benefit of your advice. My dear young friend, I am quite fascinated by your interesting story. Good night."
Rashburn turned upon his heel in the most natural manner, and plunged at once into a flirtation with a pretty girl in pink. Nobody would have guessed that he had just listened to a thrilling piece of information that might mean a new move for him in his Eastern policy. The little keen-eyed man looked at Harold and nodded his head interrogatively.
"Of course, Rashburn has to play his game," he said. "It would never do for him to know anything about the thing officially, unless the Shan approached him personally, which is not in the least likely. Because, you see, we have got to get that ruby back—no reason to split hairs between you and I—and by fair means or foul. Personally, I should prefer to settle the business on prosaic business lines—go to Benstein very late, tell him we know everything, and tender him a cheque for the money and bring away the ruby on an authority from the Shan to do so."
"Not a written authority," Harold said hastily.