Loder, following his glance, smiled.

Lakely laughed again.  “They might have known it all along, if they’d cared to deduce,” he said.  “Did they really believe that Russia was going to sit calmly looking across the Heri-Rud while the Shah played at mobilizing?  But what became of you last night?  We had a regular prophesying of the whole business at Bramfell’s; the great Fraide looked in for five minutes.  I went on with him to the club afterwards and was there when the news came in.  ’Twas a great night!”

Loder’s face lighted up.  “I can imagine it,” he said, with an unusual touch of warmth.

Lakely watched him intently for a moment.  Then with a quick action he leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk.

“It’s going to be something more than imagination for you, Chilcote,” he said, impressively.  “It’s going to be solid earnest!” He spoke rapidly and with rather more than his usual shrewd decisiveness; then he paused to see the effect of his announcement.

Loder was still studying the flaring poster.  At the other’s words he turned sharply.  Something in Lakely’s voice, something in his manner, arrested him.  A tinge of color crossed his face.

“Reality?” he said.  “What do you mean?”

For a further space his companion watched him; then with a rapid movement he tilted back his chair.

“Yes,” he said.  “Yes; old Fraide’s instincts are never far out.  He’s quite right.  You’re the man!”

Still quietly, but with a strange underglow of excitement, Loder left the fire, and, coming forward, took a chair at Lakely’s desk.

“Do you mind telling me what you’re driving at?” he asked, in his old, laconic voice.

Lakely still scrutinized him with an air of brisk satisfaction; then with a gesture of finality he tossed his cigar away.

“My dear chap,” he said, “there’s going to be a breach somewhere—­and Fraide says you’re the man to step in and fill it!  You see, five years ago, when things looked lively on the Gulf and the Bundar Abbas business came to light, you did some promising work; and a reputation like that sticks to a man —­even when he turns slacker!  I won’t deny that you’ve slacked abominably,” he added, as Loder made an uneasy movement, “but slacking has different effects.  Some men run to seed, others mature.  I had almost put you down on the black list, but I’ve altered my mind in the last two months.”

Again Loder stirred in his seat.  A host of emotions were stirring in his mind.  Every word wrung from Lakely was another stimulus to pride, another subtle tribute to the curious force of personality.

“Well?” he said.  “Well?”

Lakely smiled.  “We all know that Sefborough’s ministry is —­well, top-heavy,” he said.  “Sefborough is building his card house just a story too high.  It’s a toss-up what ’ll upset the balance.  It might be the army, of course, or it might be education; but it might quite as well be a matter of foreign policy!”