“Right,” said he, “though it is somewhat late in the evening for us to think of becoming secretive. Major Buckstone has seen fit to——”
“We have been all over that, also,” said the major, brusquely. “As I have said before, this lad has been entrusted with other and perhaps cleaner business of the King than this. And I can see no harm in speaking openly before him.”
“You are in command,” said Abdallah, smilingly. “And I defer to you in everything.”
“If you had been bred to the artillery, you would have done that in the first place,” replied Major Buckstone, dryly. “And, now, since that rather important point is settled, let us get to our affairs.”
The seal upon the packet of papers brought by Ezra was now broken and the three bent over them intently. Ezra once more seated himself, watching them keenly, for he was struck by the great difference in their appearance.
Major Buckstone was huge of limb and body; his great red face shone with perspiration; despite his rather uncouth farmer’s dress, he looked every inch a British officer of the old school.
Abdallah’s commanding height would have marked him almost anywhere as a person of unusual parts; and his queer robe-like garment, his bald dome and his singular dark eyes only accentuated this.
And the furtive-mannered Jason Collyer came in for his fair share of the boy’s attention. There was a peculiar something in the sharp face and the light eyes that caused Ezra to class him as dangerous.
“Even, perhaps, more dangerous than Abdallah himself,” thought the boy. “He is of the kind that never trusts any one and would halt at nothing to gain its ends.”
It did not take many minutes for these strangely-contrasted coworkers to master the contents of the documents. Then Major Buckstone drew an ink-pot toward him at a table and took up a broad-nibbed quill pen.