Alistair repeated the story he had just told in the other room, but in a distinctly lower key of enthusiasm.
“You met him with Des Louvres?” remarked the Brazilian. “Why didn’t Des Louvres come here, or, better still, the Prince himself?”
“He will come, I have no doubt, if you are willing to entertain his proposals.”
“I can hardly say that till I have seen him.” Mendes touched a bell, and the young man who had introduced Alistair promptly appeared in the doorway.
“Ascertain what is known in Rome about Prince Don Juan de Bourbon, and let me know when I come back from lunch.”
The young man hesitated an instant.
“The telephone does not go beyond Paris, sir,” he said, speaking with just perceptible hesitation.
“Our agent there can telegraph on. Cipher.”
Mendes spoke quietly. As soon as the door had closed on the young secretary, his employer made a mark upon a sheet of paper.
“You won’t see that youth next time you come here,” he observed to Stuart. “That is the second time this week he has asked me to think for him.”