"Let us come to the point," he said in a clear, steady voice. "It all lies—doesn't it?—in that question you asked——"
"Who?" came at once from Devonham's lips, as he stood, looking oddly stiff and rigid opposite his Chief. There was a touch of defiance in his tone. "Who?" He repeated his original question.
No pause intervened. Fillery's reply came sharp and firm:
"'N. H.,' " he said.
An interval of silence followed, then, between the two men, as they looked into each other's eyes. Fillery waited for his assistant to speak, but no word came.
"LeVallon," the older man continued, "is the transient, acquired personality. It does not interest us. There is no real LeVallon. The sole reality is—'N. H.'"
He spoke with the earnestness of deep conviction. There was still no reply or comment from the other.
"Paul," he continued, steadying his voice and placing a hand upon his colleague's shoulder, "I am going to ask you to—consider our arrangement—cancelled. I must——"
Then, before he could finish what he had to say, the other had said it for him:
"Edward, I give you back your promise."