That's very likely what it'll come to, but we should like to know.
The merest hint would be useful."

"I'll do my best," Hamel promised. "In any case, it will be just
the few days' holiday I was looking forward to."

Kinsley helped himself to whisky and soda and turned towards his
friend.

"Here's luck to you, Dick! Take care of yourself. All sorts of
things may happen, you know. Old man Fentolin may take a fancy to
you and tell you secrets that any statesman in Europe would be glad
to hear. He may tell you why this conference is being held and
what the result will be. You may be the first to hear of our coming
fall. Well, here's to you, anyway! Drop me a line, if you've
anything to report."

"Cheero!" Hamel answered, as he set down his empty tumbler.
"Astonishing how keen I feel about this little adventure. I'm
perfectly sick of the humdrum life I have been leading the last
week, and you do sort of take one back to the Arabian Nights, you
know, Reggie. I am never quite sure whether to take you seriously
or not."

Kinsley smiled as he held his friend's hand for a moment.

"Dick," he said earnestly, "if only you'd believe it, the adventures
in the Arabian Nights were as nothing compared with the present-day
drama of foreign politics. You see, we've learned to conceal things
nowadays--to smooth them over, to play the part of ordinary citizens