So they listened to his
sad story and gave him a bag to see him through, and it isn't George who is
taking the bag to Paris, but the bag which is taking George." To prevent
him arguing I told Geraldine that you can tell a real K.M. by his Silver
Greyhound badge, which he'll show you if you doubt him, just as you can
tell a stockbroker by his pearl tie-pin, which you can see for yourself.
This put George on his mettle.
"To think that to me are entrusted messages which may alter the map of
Europe and change the history of the world! But I mustn't let my conceit
run away with me, must I?" Positively I believe Geraldine at that began to
play with the idea of doing what George said he mustn't let his conceit do.
Anyhow I had half-an-hour to myself while she listened to the inner
histories of European Courts and flirted with the Bearer of Despatches. I
was left gazing at the bag.
There was only one bag, but it was very bulky. The contents were a tight
fit; something round, about a yard in diameter, about a foot and a half in
depth.
"Are you looking after this bag of yours properly, George?" I asked. "We
shall be very angry with you if you go and lose it." Something indefinable
but intensely important in my tone caught Geraldine's attention.
"That is between me and the F.O.," said George irritably.
"When I was talking to them about it--" said I.
"What have you to do with the Foreign Office?" asked Geraldine.
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