Lord Beauregard looked at his companion’s anxious face. “Do you know the news?” he said.
“What news?” asked Wratislaw. “That your family position is changed, or that the dissolution will be a week earlier, or that Marka is busy again?”
“I mean the last. How did you know? Did you see the telegrams?”
“No, I saw it in the papers.”
“Good Heavens!” said the great man. “Let me see the thing,” and he snatched a newspaper cutting from Wratislaw’s hand, returning it the next moment with a laugh. It ran thus: “Telegrams from the Punjab declare that an expedition, the personnel of which is not yet revealed, is about to start for the town of Bardur in N. Kashmir, to penetrate the wastes beyond the frontier. It is rumoured that the expedition has a semi-official character.”
“That’s our friend,” said Wratislaw, putting the paper into his pocket.
Lord Beauregard wrinkled his brow and stared at the bowl of his pipe. “I see the motive clearly, but I am hanged if I understand why an evening paper should print it. Who in this country knows of the existence of Bardur?”
“Many people since Haystoun’s book,” said the other.
“I have just glanced at it. Is there anything important in it?”
“Nothing that we did not know before. But things are put in a fresh light. He covered ground himself of which we had only a second-hand account.”