Sartines bowed with a satirical smile.
“Am I happy enough to be useful to your lordship?” queried Balsamo.
These words were pronounced without a shade of emotion or disquiet clouding the smiling brow.
“You have travelled a good deal, count,” said the Police Chief.
“A great deal! I suppose you want for some geographical items. A man of your capacity is not cramped up in France but must embrace Europe and the world—— ”
“Not geographical, my lord, but personal—— ”
“Do not restrict yourself; in both, I am at your orders.”
“Well, count, just imagine that I am looking after a very dangerous man, in faith, who seems to be an atheist, conspirator, forger, adulterer, coiner, charlatan, and chief of a secret league; whose history I have on my records and in this casket, which your lordship sees.”
“I understand,” said Balsamo; “you have the story but not the man. Hang it, that seems to me the more important matter.”
“No doubt: but you will see presently how near he is to our hand. Certainly, Proct Proteon Proteus had not more shapes, Jupiter more names: Acharat in Egypt, Balsamo in Italy, Somini in Sardinia, the Marquis of Anna in Malta, Marquis Pellegrini in Corsica, and lastly, Count Fe—this last name I have not been able to make out; but I am almost sure that you will help me to it for you must have met this man in the course of your travels in the countries I have mentioned. I suppose, though, you would want some kind of description?”