“No, I had not foreseen this,” said Cyril slowly. He had been glancing, while Paschics spoke, through the piles of letters and telegrams stacked on the table, flinging some aside and arranging others carefully in order. He had a sheaf of papers in his hand now, and was flicking them through absently.
“Sit down and write, Paschics,” was the sharp order which startled the secretary. “And you, Mansfield——”
“Land alive, Count! you don’t allow to fix up all the affairs of Europe before you get a bath and a sleep?” cried Mr Hicks, aghast.
“That’s exactly what I have to do. You take a rest, Hicks, if you like.”
“Not much,” was the emphatic reply. “I won’t offer to write for you, Count, since these two gentlemen know your ways better than I do. But if you have any despatches to send off I can take them to the bureau for you, and let daylight into any one that offers any objection. I can operate the instrument if it’s necessary, you bet.”
“A hint at the nature of the hold we have over Neustria would make the fortune of your paper if it got wind of it. But it must not, you understand? If the responsibility is too great for you, I won’t burden you with it.”
“I guess my conscience is asleep on the paper side just now, Count. Go ahead, and make use of me right away.”
“The immediate business of the moment is to send an ultimatum to the Neustrian Minister of Foreign Affairs. Unless this persecution—moral and material—of the Jews ceases instantly, there will be presented to the United States Government a memorandum of the secret convention entered into between Scythia and Neustria with reference to the Darien Canal. When American attention is distracted, owing to troubles elsewhere, it is agreed that the two Powers shall take joint action with regard to Darien.” Cyril looked sharply at Mr Hicks, who nodded calmly.
“Good card, Count. It never struck me you had that up your sleeve.”
“You knew of the convention, then?”