"Am I late?"—as he drew up a chair for her.
"On the minute," he lied.
She smiled tolerantly. "Will you close the door, please?"
With a speed that would have made his subalterns gasp, he hastened to obey.
"Since I received your telephone call," he told her, settling himself behind the desk, "I have been all interest. What is it this time—more plots against the Sirkar?"
She made a grimace. "Plots spring up and die overnight! If I concerned myself with such minor occurrences, I should be eternally occupied. I told you I wished to see you regarding a matter of importance."
She paused and he said: "Well?"
"What happened on the night of June fourteenth?"
He stared at her. "You don't mean—"
"But I do."