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Updated: May 15, 2025
Vaudrey was not ignorant of the fact that for some time past, Lucien Granet had been manoeuvring for his appointment to any office whatever, the most important obtainable. He was within an ace of becoming a member of the last Ministerial Coalition. He might have been Vaudrey's colleague instead of his rival.
At about half-past ten that evening, Granet suddenly threw down his cue in the middle of a game of billiards, and stood, for a moment, in a listening attitude. "Jove, I believe that's an airship!" he exclaimed, and hurried out of the room. They all followed him. He was standing just outside the French-windows of the sitting-room, upon the gravel walk, his head upturned, listening intently.
"About three months." Captain Granet kicked a pebble away from the path in front of him with his sound foot. "I should think he must be a very good surgeon," he remarked in a measured tone. "Looks as though he had lots of nerve, and that sort of thing. To tell you the truth, though, he rather frightens me. I don't think that he has much sympathy with my type."
His astonishment was so evident and artless that Granet, his friend and colleague in the Chamber of Deputies, could not help smiling at it from under his carefully waxed moustaches. "I consider all this much more wonderful than the opera itself," observed his Excellency. The floor and wings were like great yellow spots, and the whole immense stage resembled a great, sandy desert.
He knows all about it, and his uncle, and a great many of the guests they have gathered together. They'll all be safe enough at Reigate! Come, Captain Granet, what have you to say about it?" Granet drew himself up. He looked every inch a soldier, and, curiously enough, he seemed in his bearing and attitude to be respecting the higher rank by virtue of which Thomson had spoken.
You must get on shore and have lunch at the 'Ship. I'll come along as soon as I can. Frightfully sorry, Granet, but I needn't apologise to you, need I? War's war, you know and this is a matter of urgency." "You're not going out this tide?" Geraldine demanded breathlessly. Conyers shook his head. "It isn't that," he replied.
In a few moments they had dragged over the side a small collapsible boat of canvas stretched across some bamboo joints, with two tiny sculls. They clambered up the bank. "The creek must be close here," Granet whispered. "Don't show a light. Listen!" This time they could hear the sound of an engine beating away in the boat-house on the other side of the Hall.
They left the dining-room and, eschewing the inviting luxuries of the billiard room and library, passed into a small room behind, plainly furnished as a business man's study. Granet seized his uncle by the arm. "It's coded, I suppose?" Sir Alfred nodded.
Geoffrey Anselman threw up the window and looked out. "Pretty hot stuff, isn't he Ronnie?" he asked. Granet glanced at his opponent, with his bent shoulders, his hard face, hooked nose and thin gold spectacles. "Yes," he admitted quietly, "he's too good for me."
"It was all fenced around with match-boarding." "Do you mean that you have been allowed on board the Scorpion?" Granet nodded. "I had the rottenest luck," he declared. "I took Miss Conyers and her friend down to see her brother, Commander Conyers. We were invited to lunch on board. At the last moment we were turned off.
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