“You don’t think”⁠—the Prime Minister hesitated a minute⁠—“that it would be better to open it now? Surely we ought to secure the document, that is, provided the young man’s guess turns out to be correct, at once. We can keep the fact of having done so quite secret.”

“Can we? I’m not so sure. There are spies all round us. Once it’s known I wouldn’t give that”⁠—he snapped his fingers⁠—“for the life of those two girls. No, the boy trusted me, and I shan’t let him down.”

“Well, well, we must leave it at that, then. What’s he like, this lad?”

“Outwardly, he’s an ordinary clean-limbed, rather block-headed young Englishman. Slow in his mental processes. On the other hand, it’s quite impossible to lead him astray through his imagination. He hasn’t got any⁠—so he’s difficult to deceive. He worries things out slowly, and once he’s got hold of anything he doesn’t let go. The little lady’s quite different. More intuition and less common sense. They make a pretty pair working together. Pace and stamina.”