I did so, at once, of course, keeping hold of my precious cigarette, and they made a very business-like search of all my pockets, and then felt all about me to see that I had no weapons. They put the results of their search on the desk, and one of them, being a very zealous officer, went to the trouble of breaking open two or three of the cigarettes and pinching and bending the rest. But it did not occur to him that I could be smoking one which he might wish to see. It had been quite a happy thought, that little precaution of mine.
Then one of them picked up the letter from Volheno and was unfolding it when I said gently: “I am not sure that M. Volheno will care for you to read correspondence between us.”
The name acted like a charm of magic. He refolded it and dropped it like a live coal.
“It would, however, assist you to understand the position, my friend, and appreciate your mistake,” I said in the same suave tone.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Ralph Donnington. I am an Englishman and have the privilege of enjoying the friendship of M. Volheno.”
“Why didn’t you say who you were before?”
“You did not ask me, and I never argue with the man at the butt end of a revolver.”
“How is it you are here?”
“I think that is a matter I can better explain to my friend, M. Volheno, himself.” Seeing the excellent effect of the name, I deemed it judicious to rub it in. “Are you in command here? If not, I wish you would bring your superior here or take me to him.”