But Ruxton denied the need for apology.
"As a matter of fact I'm glad you've called—now. If it had been earlier I should not have been so pleased." He laughed, and the smiling eyes of the officer noted the laugh carefully.
"That's all right then, sir."
The two men passed up-stairs to Ruxton's study, and, while he revelled in the enjoyment of one of his host's best cigars, Purdic bluntly set out the objects he sought in this late visit.
"Now, Mr. Farlow," he began, "we've been on this thing some days now, and we're still groping around like a pair of babes in the wood. We've located a few bits. We've discovered certain suspicious circumstances, but nothing's led anywhere, and we're just as far off finding this Princess as if we were dodging icebergs up around the Pole. And do you know why, sir?"
Ruxton was not without ideas on the subject, but he nevertheless shook his head.
"No," he said. He was lounging in the chair which had claimed him nearly all the evening.
The other cleared his throat.
"Because you've set up a brick wall between me and the job you've set me at. The wall's high and thick, and it's plastered with Government political secrecy. You mustn't mind my speaking this way, sir. You see, you want certain work done, and I want to do it. But miracles don't concern me, and that's what you're asking of me, unless you break down that wall. With due respect, sir, it's no use asking men of my profession to disentangle a skein of fine thread and refuse to let 'em handle the skein. It can't be done; that's all."
Ruxton nodded, and the man with the smiling face went on.