I looked at Mr. Katahashi with new respect.
“Your secret service is well managed, sir,” I observed.
“Such a compliment from such a quarter is an ample reward for what little pains I may have taken.”
“Then it is you who are——?”
“The organizer of our secret service during the war?—I am.”
“But you are a banker?” I turned my eyes to the card by which Mr. Katahashi had announced his visit.
The Japanese gave another of his subtle smiles—those peculiar smiles of the Oriental which make the keenest-witted man of the West feel that he is little better than a blunderer.
“I came here prepared to take you into my confidence,” he said gravely. “I am well aware that it is the only safe course in dealing with the Bismarck of underground diplomacy.
“I am equally well aware,” the Privy Councillor added, “that a secret confided to Monsieur V—— is as safe as if it had been told in confidence to a priest of Buddha, for whom the penalty of betrayal is to be flayed alive.”