twenty-two

‘Cummins, could you please come in?’ Hastings summoned his secretary.

‘You called, sir?’ the secretary asked, as he appeared around the door.

‘Yes, Cummins. Do you still have the file containing all our correspondence with Haider Ali?’

The aide bowed his head. If he saw the irony in Hastings’ use of the plural form, he gave no sign. ‘Yes, I do, sir.’

‘I don’t believe we require that sort of paperwork,’ the governor general said, with a meaningful bow of his head.

‘Very good, sir.’

‘Oh, and Cummins …’

‘This matter shall, of course, like all other matters, be kept strictly between us.’

‘Yes, sir,’ the little man said, as he turned back to face his employer with a smile.