“There’s not the least need for you to worry,” she said with a little woeful smile, like a sun-ray piercing a rain-cloud, “if the Chief says ‘Go back to France and wait for instructions,’ you may be sure that everything is arranged, and you will receive your orders in due course. So shall I. That’s the Chief all over. Until you know him, you think he loves mystery for mystery’s sake. It isn’t that at all. He just doesn’t trust us. He trusts nobody!”
“But that hardly seems fair to us...” began Desmond.
“It’s merely a precaution,” replied Barbara, “the Chief takes no risks. I’ve not the least doubt that he has decided to tell you nothing whatsoever about your part until you are firmly settled in your new role. I’m perfectly certain that every detail of your part has already been worked out.”
“Oh, that’s not possible,” said Desmond. “Why, he didn’t know until an hour ago that I was going to take on this job.”
Barbara laughed.
“The Chief has taught me a lot about judging men by their looks,” she said: “Personally, if I’d been in the Chief’s places I should have gone ahead without consulting you, too.”
The girl spoke with such directness that there was not the least suggestion of a compliment in her remark, but Desmond blushed to the roots of his hair. Barbara noticed it and added hastily:
“I’m not trying to pay you a compliment: I’m just judging by your type. I believe I can always tell the man that will take on any job, however dangerous, and carry it through to the end.”
Desmond blushed more furiously than ever.
He made haste to divert the conversation into a safer channel.