"Crayford and I start motor trip to-morrow he thinks Germany have no fear all right Marseilles or I Dutchman.—Lake."
As she read this telegram Charmian knew that the two men would come to Algiers. She believed in Alston Lake. He had an extraordinary faculty for carrying things through; and Crayford was fond of him. Crayford had been kind, generous to the boy, and loved him as a man may love his own good action. Lake, as he had said in private to Charmian, could "do a lot with dear old Crayford."
He would certainly bring Crayford to Mustapha. Old Jernington must go.
The 31st of August dawned and began to fade.
Charmian felt desperate. She resolved to tackle Claude on the matter. Old Jernington would never understand unless she said to him, "Go! For Heaven's sake, go!" And even then he would probably think that she was saying the reverse of what she meant, in an effort after that type of playful humor which, for all she knew, perhaps still prevailed in his native Suffolk. She had bent Claude to her purposes before. She must bend him to her purpose now.
"Claudie," she said, "you know what an old dear I think Jernington, don't you?"
Claude looked up at her with rather searching eyes. She had come into his workroom at sunset. All day she had been considering what would be the best thing to do. Old Jernington was strolling in the garden smoking a very German pipe after having been "at it" for many hours.
"Jernington?"
"Yes, old Jernington."
"Of course he's an excellent fellow. What about him?"