"It is business of state," Anthony Trent said loftily. "If you feel you have a right to dictate terms very well. But," he continued impressively, "I will promise you one thing. From tomorrow on, you will buttle for someone else."
It happened that the cabinet meeting, which had to do with domestic finance, was already ended.
The prime minister glanced at the card sent in, and turned to the private secretary of the Earl of Rosecarrel who had just entered the room.
"That splendid young man Willoughby Maitland who did so well at Zeebrugge is demanding an audience. I am rather tired. Do you mind seeing if it is of importance?"
"Certainly not, sir," said Colonel Langley.
He stopped short when he saw who accompanied the naval officer, and learned that it was Anthony Trent who had business with the premier.
"The last time I saw you," he said stiffly, "was under circumstances which give you no right to expect me to plead your cause."
"That may be," Trent said equably, "but I am here not to converse with you but your superiors. By the way who is prime minister now?"
"Llewellyn Morgan," Maitland said. "His third term."
It was Llewellyn Morgan Trent had met in Cornwall. Things looked brighter. "The premier knows me," he said to Colonel Langley, "and you are no doubt aware I am privileged to call Lord Rosecarrel my friend."