my son. God rest his brave soul!'



CHAPTER TWO
The Gathering of the Missionaries


I wrote out a wire to Sandy, asking him to come up by the
two-fifteen train and meet me at my flat.

'I have chosen my colleague,' I said.

'Billy Arbuthnot's boy? His father was at Harrow with me. I
know the fellow - Harry used to bring him down to fish - tallish,
with a lean, high-boned face and a pair of brown eyes like a pretty
girl's. I know his record, too. There's a good deal about him in this
office. He rode through Yemen, which no white man ever did
before. The Arabs let him pass, for they thought him stark mad and
argued that the hand of Allah was heavy enough on him without
their efforts. He's blood-brother to every kind of Albanian bandit.
Also he used to take a hand in Turkish politics, and got a huge
reputation. Some Englishman was once complaining to old Mahmoud
Shevkat about the scarcity of statesmen in Western Europe,
and Mahmoud broke in with, "Have you not the Honourable
Arbuthnot?" You say he's in your battalion. I was wondering what
had become of him, for we tried to get hold of him here, but he
had left no address. Ludovick Arbuthnot - yes, that's the man.
Buried deep in the commissioned ranks of the New Army? Well,
we'll get him out pretty quick!'