“There is a picture of him. Only he hasn’t got grey hair: and underneath Perma n-e-n-t, Permanent Undersecretary of State for Foreign Affairs. What does it mean, Cæsar?”
Cæsar, otherwise Aymer, considered a moment. 34
“Permanent means lasting, going on. You ought to know that, Christopher.”
“But he isn’t going on.”
“He could have done so.”
“Why didn’t he? Didn’t he like it?”
“Yes, very much. He was trained for that kind of thing.”
“Did he get tired of writing letters, then?”
“No.”
Aymer was apt to become monosyllabic when a certain train of thought was forced on him. Also a short deep line of frown appeared under the white scar: but Christopher had not yet learnt to pay full heed to these signs: also he had a predilection for getting at the root of any matter he had once begun to investigate, so he began again: