“Of the same nature as mine?” I interjected.
“Oh, please,” he replied with a deprecatory smile and wave of the hand. “A number of genuine arrests have been made and I am going to interrogate the prisoners. M. Volheno thinks it very probable that you can identify——”
“Do what?” I exclaimed.
“We believe that they are some of the men who frequented the revolutionary headquarters in the Rua Catania about which you gave him information.”
“Wait a moment. I never gave M. Volheno any information of any sort whatever, sir.”
He gave me a very shrewd glance and his eyes were hard and piercing. “Surely—I don’t understand, then.”
“I am beginning to, I think. I had a letter from him to-night—I think your clever police brought it away with them—in which he thanked me for having done something of the sort. But he is under a complete delusion. I am going to see him in the morning and tell him so.”
“Is this the letter?” I nodded as he held it up. “With your permission I’ll read it again.”
“I don’t care what you do with it,” I said.
“It is certainly very strange,” he muttered to himself when he finished. “He clearly has had a letter from you and this is the reply to it.”