“I see,” Simon nodded. “Well — I wanted to see you, because — er — I’m off to Russia in a few days’ time.”
“My dear old boy, you have got it badly!”
“Don’t be an ass.” Simon wriggled his neck and grinned. “No, honestly, there is a muddle on.”
“What sort of a muddle?” Richard Eaton asked, serious at once.
“It’s Rex. He’s in Russia — spot of trouble with the authorities. He’s in prison somewhere — we don’t quite know where.”
“Phew!” Eaton let out a long whistle. “That’s a nasty one — poor old Rex — and you’re going over to try and get him out, is that the idea?”
Simon nodded. “That’s about it”
“Well,” said Richard Eaton, slowly, “you can’t go off on a job like that alone — I’d better come, too. I owe Rex a turn over that mess of mine.”
“Ner — awfully nice of you, Richard, but De Richleau’s coming, in fact he’s already gone — probably there by now, but I’ll tell you what I do want you to do.”
“Go right ahead, Simon.” Eaton took his friend by the arm. “Just say how I can help. I was going to take the new bus down to Cannes for a week or two, but I can easily scrap that.”