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Updated: May 23, 2025
Chilcote started and opened his eyes. "I I believe I was dozing," he said, confusedly. Fraide smiled his dry, kindly smile. "A fatal admission for a member of the Opposition," he said. "But I was looking for you earlier in the day, Chilcote. There is something behind this Persian affair. I believe it to be a mere first move on Russia's part. You big trading people will find it worth watching."
He would have been less than man had he been unconscious of the subtle contact of her glance, the nearness of her presence and no one had ever hinted that manhood was lacking in him. It was a moment of temptation. His own energy, his own intentions, seemed so near; Chilcote and Chilcote's claims so distant and unreal. After all, his life, his ambitions, his determinations, were his own.
He opened his eyes, murmured something, and closed them again. The man moved to the window, quietly pulled back the curtains and half drew the blind. "Better night, sir, I hope?" he ventured, softly. Chilcote had drawn the bedclothes over his face to screen himself from the daylight, murky though it was. "Yes," he responded. "Those beastly nightmares didn't trouble me, for once."
There was a great change in Loder; his strong, imperturbable face was stirred; he was moved in both voice and manner. Time after time he repeated his injunction reasoning, expostulating, insisting. It almost seemed that he fought some strenuous invisible force rather than the shattered man before him. Chilcote moved nervously in his seat. It was the first real clash of personalities.
I must see you at your post, and I must see the men you work with." He rose, walked across the room, and took his pipe from the rack. "When I go in for a thing, I like to go in over head and ears," he added, as he opened his tobacco-jar. His pipe filled, he resumed his seat, resting his elbows on the table in unconscious imitation of Chilcote.
It was dinner-time before Chilcote could desert the House, but the moment departure was possible he hurried to Grosvenor Square. As he entered the house, the hall was empty. He swore irritably under his breath and pressed the nearest bell. Since his momentary exaltation in Fraide's presence, his spirits had steadily fallen, until now they hung at the lowest ebb.
Such a thing couldn't be, could it?" Chilcote looked down at the fire. "No," he said, doubtfully. "No. I suppose not." "Of course not. There are likenesses, but not freak likenesses like that." Chilcote's head was bent as she spoke, but at the last words he lifted it. "By Jove! I don't know about that!" he said. "Not so very long ago I saw two men so much alike that I I " He stopped.
Chilcote had had intellect, education, opportunity, and Chilcote had deliberately cast them aside. Fortifying himself in the knowledge, he turned from the window and moved slowly back to the bed. "Look here," he began, "yon wrote for me last night " His voice was hard; he had come to fight. Chilcote glanced up quickly. His mouth was drawn and there was anew anxiety in his eyes.
Setting the thought of Chilcote aside, ignoring his own position and the risks he daily ran, he had fully yielded to the glamour of the moment, and in the first freedom of a loose rein he had given unreservedly all that he possessed of activity, capacity, and determination to the cause that had claimed him.
Then, as he held the book towards her, her face fell. "Dine 33 Cadogan Gardens, 8 o'c. Talk with L.," she read. "Why, you've forgotten the essential thing!" He looked up. "The essential thing?" She smiled. "The blue cross," she said. "Isn't it worth even a little one?" The tone was very soft. Chilcote yielded. "You have the blue pencil," he said, in sudden response to her mood.
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