"Mrs. Dalhousie is giving a lawn party to-night," he announced, taking a chair. "Impromptu. She told me to drag you along, if you'd come."
"Sorry," returned Trent. "I'm leaving for Benares early in the morning. I'll be occupied to-night. Orders from Delhi."
Manlove withdrew a cigarette case from under his tunic, opened it, took out a smoke and placed it between his lips before he spoke.
"Deuce you say! Not transferred?"
"Temporarily detached; special service. You and Conningsby will have to take charge while I'm away." He smiled. "Been reading the papers lately?"
Manlove lighted his cigarette, glancing furtively at Trent. The latter was staring into the blue haze of smoke, half humorously, as though he found something amusing in the vaporous clouds.
"Certainly"—thus Manlove.
"Anything new about the jewels?"
Manlove smiled to himself. He hadn't lived in the same house with Arnold Trent for fourteen months without learning something about him. The old sphinx, he thought good-humoredly.
"Nothing important"—briefly. "However, I understand, from Granville, that the Department believes an international thief—Chavigny's his name—mixed up in it."