And, yes, those were the measured tones of the Irish Secretary himself.
“I admit that I should have liked to change that over-rated North Borneo for their almost untouched Mauritius; and they’d have done it too, if only.…”
“What a coup it would have been!” interrupted Gaveston, his quick imagination kindling at the opening vistas of a new Colonial policy.
“You see, I think they knew I’d been concentrating on Africa for some time now.” The great Statesman continued, “For, as a matter of fact, I can tell you, in confidence of course, that, I’m, er … well, I’m buying Seychelles and Liberia, against a rise.”
Gaveston gasped. What a scoop for The Mongoose!
“And I don’t mind telling you,” the booming voice went on, “that the King himself is jealous of my three-cornered Cape of Good Hopes.”
“Three cornered…?” Gaveston’s head swam. But only for a moment. How it all came back to him! His wits rallied, and he recovered himself. “I hope, Sir Nicholas,” he winged the words down the long table, “you won’t swap a defaced Ireland for a second-hand St. Helena.”
It was a characteristic lightning-flash, and a thunder-clap of delighted laughter broke from all, not least from Sir Nicholas himself; he appreciated the subtle compliment. The Jordans gazed proudly at their promising débutant. Miss Tropes made a hurried note. Seldom had even Gaveston himself felt so sure of himself or so proud of the great ffoulis heritage of wit.
But while the laughter still echoed in the high-flung rafters, Sir Nicholas was seen to be gazing intently towards the door, a charmed delight in his eyes. The late-comer!