The Kingdom of the BlindOppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips)
General
The Kingdom of the Blind
Oppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips)
Fiction; Spy stories
Thomson shook his head.
“Thank you,” he answered drily, “I have it in my desk but I think I can
remember. Is he outside now?”
“Yes, sir! He said he wouldn’t keep you for more than a few minutes, if
you could spare him a short interview.”
“Any luck last night?”
Ambrose sighed.
“I was up till three o’clock again. Once I thought I was on the track of
it. I have come to the conclusion now that it’s one of those codes
that depend upon shifting quantities. I shall start again to-night on a
different idea. Shall I show Captain Granet in, sir?”
Thomson assented, and a few minutes later Granet entered the room. He
made no attempt to shake hands or to take a seat. Thomson looked at him
coldly.
“Well,” he asked, abruptly, “what can I do for you?”
“I don’t suppose you can do anything,” Granet replied, “but I am
going to spend to-day and to-morrow, too, if necessary, in this place,
bothering every one I ever heard of. You have some influence, I know.
Get me a job out of this country.”
Thomson raised his eyebrows slightly.
“You want to go abroad again?”
“Anywhere--anyhow! If they won’t have me back in France, although heaven
knows why not, can I be sent to the Dardanelles, or even East Africa?
I’ll take out Territorials, if you like. I’ll do anything sooner than
be ordered to one of these infernal country towns to train young
tradespeople. If I don’t worry, I know I shall get a home appointment
directly, and I don’t want it.”
Thomson studied his visitor, for a moment, carefully.
“So you want to be fighting again, eh?” he remarked.
“I do,” Granet answered firmly.
Major Thomson drew a little locked book towards him, unfastened it with
a key from his chain and held his hand over the page. It was noticeable
that his right hand slipped open a few inches the right-hand drawer of
his desk.
“You have come to me, Captain Granet,” he said, “to ask my aid in
getting you a job. Well, if I could give you one where I was perfectly
certain that you would be shot in your first skirmish, I would give
it to you, with pleasure. Under present conditions, however, it is my
impression that the further you are from any British fighting force, the
better it will be for the safety and welfare of that force.”
Granet’s face was suddenly rigid. He had turned a little paler and his
eyes flashed.
“What do you mean?” he demanded.
Thomson had removed his hand and was glancing at the open page.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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