Lord Beauregard wrinkled his brow and stared at the bowl of his pipe.
"I see the motive clearly, but I am hanged if I understand why an
evening paper should print it. Who in this country knows of the
existence of Bardur?"
"Many people since Haystoun's book," said the other.
"I have just glanced at it. Is there anything important in it?"
"Nothing that we did not know before. But things are put in a fresh
light. He covered ground himself of which we had only a second-hand
account."
"And he talks of this Bardur?"
"A good deal. He is an expert in his way on the matter and uncommonly
clever. He kept the best things out of the book, and it would be worth
your while meeting him. Do you happen to know him?"
"No--o," said the great man doubtfully. "Oh, stop a moment. I have
heard my young brother talk of somebody of the same name. Rather a
figure at Oxford, wasn't he?"
Wratislaw nodded. "But to talk of Marka," he add.
"His mission is, of course, official, and he has abundant resources."
"So much I gathered," said Wratislaw. "But his designs?
"He knows the tribes in the North better than any living man, but
without a base at hand he is comparatively harmless. The devil in the
thing is that we do not know how close that base may be. Fifty thousand
men may be massed within fifty miles, and we are in ignorance."
"It is the lack of a secret service," said the other.
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