"There will be no difficulty with the authorities. I have arranged all that; and you need not be back at Dera till October or November," the great man had concluded, in a tone half question, half command.
"No, sir. I may as well do all I can while I'm up there."
Whereat Sir Henry had eyed him thoughtfully from between narrowed lids. For all his great brain, he was a man of one idea: and that idea—"The North safeguarded." Mere men, himself included, were for him no more than pawns in the great game to be played out between two Empires, on the chess-board of Central Asia. But . . there are pawns, and pawns: and Sir Henry had had his eye on Lenox for some years; recognising in him a pawn of high value; a man to be sent to the front on the first opportunity, and kept there as long as might be. The news of his marriage had been a shock to the Foreign Secretary: and it is conceivable that he had wished to test Lenox by asking him to undertake such a mission within a year of the fatal event. He was speculating now, as he watched him, how far the 'woman complication' was likely to count with this impenetrable Scot. With Sir Henry, after the first year or two, the woman had not counted at all; and, unhappily for her, she knew it.
The pause lasted so long that Lenox shifted his position: but Sir Henry only said, "I was relieved when I got your wire."
"Surely I could not have answered otherwise?"
"I am glad you think so. But frankly, when I heard of your marriage, I was half afraid I had lost one of my ablest men."
Lenox smiled. "Not quite as bad as that, sir, I hope."
"Well then . . what about Gilgit?"
Sir Henry spoke carelessly; but his eyes were on Lenox's face, and he saw him flinch.
"Is that likely to be an immediate contingency?" Lenox asked quietly.