"Come now, you're the last person to preach. Your house has always been known to be the refuge of the socially destitute."
"One has to pay for one's title even if it's an old one," said Lady Wereminster. "It tacks on about thirty per cent. on the price of a yard of ribbon and lessens your income from five hundred a year upwards in charitable demands. But about Richard Farquharson. I believe that man's made of the right stuff, Evelyn."
She laid her hand on the younger woman's arm with a sudden access of gravity.
"My dear, I'm an old woman, and in my heart of hearts I'm as troubled for my country as though she were my child. All about me are signs of decay. I see young people spending twice as much a week on pleasure as their parents would have spent on the necessities of life in a year; I see every principle I was taught in childhood violated and outraged. Private betrayals, political treason, public indifference, contempt of religion, lightness in marriage are everywhere. Signs of the times, Wereminster says. It breaks his heart like mine. I was brought up to rank honour and truth and sincerity as everyday virtues, and marriage a church ceremony so solemn that it made one weep. I think we need some national upheaval or shock to make us realize how we've sunk morally."
"A strong man in politics, for instance, to take us by our shoulders and give us a good shaking?"
"Exactly. And that's just what Richard Farquharson would enjoy doing! The man will make history, my dear, or I'm no judge of character."
"I'm glad you've made friends with Mrs. Brand," said Creagh. It was past midnight, but he and Beadon had agreed to walk with Farquharson and Calvert so far as the village inn. "She's a woman of wide interests and sound common sense. By the way, she asked me if I knew any details of how Mr. Farquharson arranged that island scheme for you. She said I was not to press you if you had any objection to telling her."
"It's a long story," Calvert said slowly. "Farquharson never will speak of it. I think he went through worse things than I knew even. To start with, he had to go disguised to the bazaar, a thing not one Englishman out of a dozen could have carried through successfully, even with his knowledge of Arabic."
"He tossed the whole thing off to-night in a phrase when I spoke to him about it—said circumstances played into his hands, and it was merely a question of watching and waiting."
"There was a fairly complicated plot involved," said Calvert dryly. "To make you understand what happened I ought to explain something of the actual geographical situation. Taorna, you may know, is the chief of a group of islands that a good many Powers have coveted in their day—Turkish, Muscatian, Persian, even Portuguese. She was known to be a prize, her pearl fisheries only needed to be adequately worked on modern lines to bring in a big revenue. The Shah of Persia had had his eyes on that fishery for some time, and had planted secret agents very intelligently amongst the inland tribes of the Shiite sects. They sowed discontent and dissension—and we reaped the benefit."