“Of course I can trust him. He has my entire confidence and is a perfect encyclopædia of details. As a matter of fact he is a distant connexion of mine, an orphan, and I educated him.”
“Such a man has reason to be grateful,” I said.
“I believe he would give his life for me,” declared Volheno confidently.
Dagara came back then, but without the letter, and I concluded that Maral had failed to send him the copy I had made. While he was making his explanation I observed him very carefully.
He was genuinely troubled, as he might well be, indeed; but there was so little in his look and manner suggestive of roguery or hypocrisy that, despite what I knew, I set him down as an honest fellow who had been forced against his will into this treachery.
His explanation was that the letter was probably among his employer’s papers and that he would make a search for it; and Volheno, trusting him implicitly, accepted the story and sent him away with another word or two of censure.
Then he resumed his efforts to get me to disclose what I knew, but adopted a different line. He referred to the concessions, and gave me to understand that, whereas it would help me in regard to them if I told him things, my refusal would as certainly prejudice my chances.
I did not attach the value of a rotten orange to them, but I deemed it judicious to make a fine display of rather indignant surprise.
From that he went a step further—that although he himself had no doubt that I had acquired the information innocently, it was highly probable that those to whom he was bound to report the matter would not take the same view; and he hinted that in such a case I might receive a request to leave the country.
That touched me on the raw, but I instantly professed a readiness to leave. I would go that very day if he wished, but in such a case, of course, the concessions would be dropped and there would be no plums in the future for those who looked for them in return for help at the present.