I took a cigarette from the case he held out, turned it between my fingers, and lit it from the end farthest from the maker’s imprint.
“If I am satisfied that all danger is removed I should be inclined to apply for some shares in your undertaking,” I said, giving the promoter a meaning look.
From the expression in his eyes it was evident that this precious scoundrel was ready to sell Czar, Russia and fellow-promoters all together.
While he was struggling between his natural greed and his suspicion the waiter reentered with some boxes of cigarettes.
I smelt the tobacco of each and made my choice, at the same time pitching the half-smoked cigarette given to me by M. Petrovitch into the fireplace, among the ashes.
“Your tobacco is a little too strong for me,” I remarked by way of excuse.
But the Russian was wrapped up in the thought of the bribe at which I had just hinted.
“I shall bear in mind what you say,” he declared, as he rose.
“Depend upon it, if it is possible for me to meet your wishes, I shall be happy to do so.”
I saw him go off, like a fish with the bait in its mouth. Directly the door closed behind him I sprang to the fireplace, rescued the still burning cigarette and quenched it, and then, carefully brushing away the dust, read the maker’s brand once more.