Farrer struck Geoffrey as quite a good fellow—a man who had knocked about the world a good deal, no doubt. His companion seemed a smart, go-ahead woman, who smoked her after-tea cigarette in a long amber holder, and seemed to thoroughly enjoy it.
It was soon apparent from the conversation that they were new acquaintances of Jack’s. He had met Miss Hessleton on a steamer between Bergen and Hull a few weeks before, and they had met again by chance at Ciro’s. Then she had introduced him to her friend, Farrer.
After tea, while the orchestra played softly, the conversation naturally turned upon Jack’s expedition, for he had mentioned it to Beryl Hessleton on the trip across the North Sea.
“Well,” said Farrer, “I wish you every good luck on your venture. There’s no doubt that there’s gold in Egypt—and a good deal of it. I recollect when I was at Oxford reading up a lot about the mines of the ancient Egyptians. The workings have, I suppose, during the ages, been buried in the desert sand?”
“Yes,” replied Jack. “The sands are always shifting, and no doubt when the ancient city was destroyed and abandoned before the advance of the enemy, the Egyptians took good care to obliterate their mines.”
“I expect you’ll have some difficulty in finding it,” remarked the smart young lady between puffs of her cigarette. “Oh! how I wish I were a man, so that I could travel and prospect. I’d love it! You’ve got nothing to do, Gilbert. Why don’t you have a trip out to the Red Sea?”
“Ah!” laughed Halliday. “I fear you would soon wish yourself back in London.”
Three evenings later Geoffrey, who had dined at Mrs. Beverley’s, walked round to his club to get his letters before returning home to Warley, when in the hall he found Jack Halliday. The latter had just looked in to leave him a note of farewell, as he was leaving the following day for Egypt.
“Come with me round to Bevin’s and have a bit of supper,” he urged. “It’s my last night in town. And you can get a train home and on to Chelmsford early in the morning.”
“Chelmsford!” laughed Geoffrey. “I can’t very well turn up at the Works in a dinner-jacket!”