“It’s a deal all right. I’m on. And confusion to Castle’s Select Tours.” They drank the toast solemnly. 2 A Lady in Distress “So that’s that,” said Anthony, finishing off his glass and replacing it on the table. “What boat were you going on?” “_Granarth Castle._” “Passage booked in your name, I suppose, so I’d better travel as James McGrath. We’ve outgrown the passport business, haven’t we?” “No odds either way. You and I are totally unlike, but we’d probably have the same description on one of those blinking things. Height 6 feet, hair brown, eyes blue, nose, ordinary, chin ordinary——” “Not so much of this ‘ordinary’ stunt. Let me tell you that Castle’s selected me out of several applicants solely on account of my pleasing appearance and nice manners.” Jimmy grinned. “I noticed your manners this morning.” “The devil you did.” Anthony rose and paced up and down the room. His brow was slightly wrinkled, and it was some minutes before he spoke. “Jimmy,” he said at last. “Stylptitch died in Paris. What’s the point of sending a manuscript from Paris to London via Africa?” Jimmy shook his head helplessly. “I don’t know.” “Why not do it up in a nice little parcel and send it by post?” “Sounds a damn sight more sensible, I agree.” “Of course,” continued Anthony, “I know that Kings and Queens and Government officials are prevented by etiquette from doing anything in a simple, straightforward fashion. Hence King’s Messengers and all that. In medieval days you gave a fellow a signet ring as a sort of Open Sesame. ‘The King’s Ring! Pass, my Lord!’ And usually it was the other fellow who had stolen it. I always wonder why some bright lad never hit on the expedient of copying the ring—making a dozen or so, and selling them at a hundred ducats apiece. They seem to have had no initiative in the Middle Ages.” Jimmy yawned. “My remarks on the Middle Ages don’t seem to amuse you. Let us get back to Count Stylptitch. From France to England via Africa seems a bit thick even for a diplomatic personage. If he merely wanted to ensure that you should get a thousand pounds he could have left it you in his will. Thank God neither you nor I are too proud to accept a legacy! Stylptitch must have been balmy.” “You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” Anthony frowned and continued his pacing. “Have you read the thing at all?” he asked suddenly. “Read what?” “The manuscript.” “Good Lord, no. What do you think I want to read a thing of that kind for?” Anthony smiled.