“Very true, Watkins,” the Raja approved. “It would not only keep them quiet, but the illusion of security would raise their spirits, which would be a humane action. I am always on the side of humanity.”
“Just so, sir,” the other replied dryly. “Then I’ll humor them.”
“Yes if they want to send a message,” Rukh agreed. “If they try to ‘get at,’ not only you, but the instrument, call the guard,” he stipulated, “and let me know at once.”
“Certainly, sir,” Watkins grinned.
“Now,” Rukh added briskly, “open the door and standby. You have the message?”
Watkins drew the slip of paper from his waistcoat pocket, and began to read it aloud, “‘The lady has come to terms. She’—”
“Yes, that’s right,” Rukh cut him off sharply. “Oh, look here,” he added, as the man was opening the folding door, “when you’ve finished, you’d better lock the door again, and say, ‘Any orders, sir?’ If I say, ‘No orders, Watkins,’ it’ll mean I’m satisfied they don’t understand. If I think they do understand, I’ll give you what orders I think necessary.”
“Very good, sir,” the punctilious valet replied, as he softly threw back the folding doors that divided Rukh’s snuggery and the wireless-room: a small, plain, business-like, office-looking place—the operator’s seat in front of the apparatus of incredibly many instruments—and that was all—except an electric light in the ceiling, not lit now, of course. Not a wire showed on floor or wall—although all of “wireless” is done by means of wires!
The Raja rose and went to the door of the billiard-room, and when he had opened it said, “Oh, Major, you were saying you had no experience of wireless. If you’ve finished your game, it might amuse you to see it at work. Watkins is just going to send out a message. Would Mrs. Crespin care to come?”
“Yes,” Crespin answered, coming into the snuggery, “why not? Will you come, Lucilla?” he called over his shoulder.