Читать книгу The Dark River онлайн

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"My interests run in another direction. I've just come down from Cambridge. This voyage was my father's idea, and by good luck it fitted in with McLeod's plans. When my father joins us we expect to go home by way of the Straits Settlements and the Dutch East Indies. We'll be gone close to a year."

"I hope your father will give me a month of that time," said Tyson. "I must try to persuade him. It's curious: we were in the war together, but we almost never write. But what does it matter? There's a great deal of useless letter writing done in the world."

"I've heard my father say the same thing," Hardie replied. "But he spent most of a day, just before we left, writing the letter I've brought you. I fancy he's tried to make up for a long silence."

He took a letter from his breast pocket and handed it to the consul.

"By Jove! He has, evidently," said Tyson as he felt of the bulky packet. "I've a treat in store." He laid the letter on the table beside him. "There's nothing like the old war comradeships, Hardie. You don't know that, of course, but you can take my word for it. Well I remember meeting your father in September, '14. I'd just arrived in London from here, and was joining one of Lord Kitchener's New Army battalions. Your father was a lieutenant then and got me posted to his platoon. Alan McLeod, George's father, was there too, and I took up two old friendships where I'd left off with them years before. Does George remember anything of his parents?"