“Now that you are back,” Mortimer remarked, polishing his glasses with a bandanna handkerchief, “the service will be resumed. I have come to see you, Mr. Bellward,” he went on, turning to Desmond, “contrary to my usual practice, mainly because I wished to confirm by personal observation the very favorable opinion I had formed of your ability from our correspondence. You have already demonstrated your discretion to me. If you continue to show that your prudence is on a level with your zeal, believe I shall not prove myself ungrateful.”
So saying he settled his glasses on his nose again.
The action woke Desmond from a brown study. During the operation of wiping his spectacles, Mr. Mortimer had given Desmond a glimpse of his eyes in their natural state without the protection of those distorting glasses. To his intense surprise Desmond had seen, instead of the weak, blinking eyes of extreme myopia, a pair of keen piercing eyes with the clear whites of perfect health. Those blue eyes, set rather close together, seemed dimly familiar. Someone, somewhere, had once looked at him like that.
“You are too kind,” murmured Desmond, grappling for the thread of the conversation.
Mortimer did not apparently notice his absentmindedness.
“Everything has run smoothly,” he resumed, “on the lines on which we have been working hitherto, but more important work lies before us. I have found it necessary to select a quiet rendezvous where I might have an opportunity of conferring in person with my associates. The first of these conferences will take place very shortly. I count upon your attendance, Bellward!”
“I shall not fail you,” replied Desmond. “But where is this rendezvous of yours, might I ask?”
Mortimer shot a quick glance at him.
“You shall know in good time,” he answered drily. Then he added:
“Do you mind if I have a few words with Nur-el-Din before I go!”