“Where?�
Sir Richard allowed his lapel to flap back.
He rested his elbows on the edge of the table and
fastened upon Fay’s eager face the cold scrutiny of a master advising a novice.
“The King’s Couriers,â€� he said impressively, “is an ancient and honorable order. The members of the office are chosen for fidelity and speed—hence the greyhound. They can go anywhere by showing the insignia. They need no passports or papers. Show this to a custom officer and he will pass your luggage. Show this little badge to a Mandarin in China or a Zelot in Afghanistan and it is all the same. You get through!â€�
“Where can I get one?�
Sir Richard beamed at Fay’s enthusiasm. “There’s a courier living in Richmond Hill who has what you want,â€� said the chief. “This courier has been to—the country north and east of here. From this courier you not only will obtain the little silver greyhound, but also a detailed description of the embassy where the key to the cipher is. I would suggest that you turn the courier’s place of residence off tomorrow night. We’ll give out that you escaped from Dartmoor and entered London in some surprising manner. What would be more natural than you robbing a house for clothes and papers? That will let us out in case of complications with the neutral nation.â€�
“You mean if I get caught?�
“Stranger things than that have happened. Now, Fay—â€�
Sir Richard pulled down the lapels of his coat and rose to his feet. He pressed back the chair with his legs. He cleared his throat.