“I certainly shall not give it you,” said the General, hotly. “Anything I know about or have heard from the Contessa Castagneto is sacred; besides, I still believe in her—thoroughly. Nothing you have said can shake me.”
“Then I must ask you to accompany me to the Prefecture. You will come, I trust, on my invitation.” The Chief spoke quietly, but with considerable dignity, and he laid a slight stress upon the last word.
“Meaning that if I do not, you will have resort to something stronger?”
“That will be quite unnecessary, I am sure,—at least I hope so. Still—”
“I will go where you like, only I will tell you nothing more, not a single word; and before I start, I must let my friends at the Embassy know where to find me.”
“Oh, with all my heart,” said the little detective, shrugging his shoulders. “We will call there on our way, and you can tell the porter. They will know where to find us.”
CHAPTER XVII
Sir Charles Collingham and his escort, M. Floçon, entered a cab together and were driven first to the Faubourg St. Honoré. The General tried hard to maintain his nonchalance, but he was yet a little crestfallen at the turn things had taken, and M. Floçon, who, on the other hand, was elated and triumphant, saw it. But no words passed between them until they arrived at the portals of the British Embassy, and the General handed out his card to the magnificent porter who received them.
“Kindly let Colonel Papillon have that without delay.” The General had written a few words: “I have got into fresh trouble. Come on to me at the Police Prefecture if you can spare the time.”
“The Colonel is now in the Chancery: will not monsieur wait?” asked the porter, with superb civility.