He interrupted me.
‘I want to know why you are here. If you are a friend, of course there is no need to quarrel. If not’—he shrugged his shoulders.
‘I came as a friend,’ I replied. ‘I came prepared to co-operate with you, to assist you, in fact. But I must first know how you stand with regard to Marloff. Is he your personal friend, or are the relations between you exclusively political?’
‘I have no personal feeling for him,’ was the guarded answer.
‘Very good. In that case your Honour shall see my real credentials. I must tell you frankly that Count Marloff has ceased to enjoy the implicit confidence of his and my Government.’
I put my hand into an inner pocket, and produced a slip of paper in the forged handwriting of the Russian Foreign Minister.
‘Does your Honour recognise that writing?’ I asked, with a confident air.
Judge —— was completely deceived. He glanced at the few lines, which were in French, with an air of the greatest respect. Then he looked at me.
‘I must apologise, Prince ——’ he began, when I raised a warning finger.
‘Hush! Not my real name, please.’