“It is preposterous—monstrous—out of the question.”
“Still, it’s got to be done; how, I leave to you;” and I leant back and smoked placidly.
He sat thinking, and then shot the question at me for which I had been waiting, and with it a sharp lightning glance.
“Why?”
“I have those papers.”
I enjoyed the start and frown which the words fetched, and his evident discomfiture and perplexity.
“Your men were very good to me; I should like to recommend one of them in particular for promotion.” I couldn’t resist the chance for this little gird at him. “I had them on me when I passed the barrier and again when I came back. And now they’re in good safe keeping.”
He bore the gibe without retort, without a sign of any kind, although I knew how deep I had thrust the blade in.
“A queer turn of the wheels, isn’t it? The very papers you sent me out to recover, when I do recover them, become my weapon against you. And, by the way, they are not the only ones I have.”
“Well?”