“But it offers now,” Buckingham interjected languidly.
“Indeed?” The black brows went up, wrinkling the heavy forehead. “I am not aware of it.”
“There is this command in Bombay, which has fallen vacant through the death of poor Macartney. I heard of it last night at Court. You are forgetting that, I think. It is an office eminently suitable to Sir Harry here.”
Albemarle was frowning. He pondered a moment; but only because it was ever his way to move slowly. Then he gently shook his head and pursed his heavy lips.
“I have also to consider, your grace, whether Sir Harry is eminently suitable to the office, and, to be quite frank, and with all submission, I must say that I cannot think so.”
Buckingham was taken aback. He stared haughtily at Albemarle. “I don’t think I understand,” he said.
Albemarle fetched a sigh, and proceeded to explain himself.
“For this office—one of considerable responsibility—we require a soldier of tried experience and character. Sir Harry is no doubt endowed with many commendable qualities, but at his age it is impossible that he should have gained the experience without which he could not possibly discharge to advantage the onerous duties which would await him. Nor is that the only obstacle, your grace. I have not only chosen my man—and such a man as I have described—but I have already offered, and he has already accepted, the commission. So that the post can no longer be considered vacant.”
“But the commission was signed only last night by His Majesty—signed in blank, as I have reason to know.”
“True. But I am none the less pledged. I am expecting at any moment now, the gentleman upon whom the appointment is already conferred.”