“That is curious.” Orme smiled. “How did he discover that?”
“In a roundabout way. I won’t take time for the story.”
They walked along in silence for a little distance. Orme was figuring on an escape, for the minister’s clutch on his arm was like that of a drowning man’s. Finally he sought the simplest means of getting away. “I have an engagement,” he said. “I shall have to leave you here. Thank you for walking with me thus far.” He disengaged his arm.
“My dear Mr. Orme,” said Alcatrante, “why should we beat around the bush?”
“Poritol knows that his papers are in your possession. Speaking for him, I offer you five thousand.”
“Why do you drag Poritol into this?” said Orme. “You know that he has merely been your agent from the start. You think he has bungled, but I tell you, you are the one who bungled, for you picked him to do the work. He had bad luck hiring a burglar for you. He lost his head when he ran away with another person’s motor-car and had to hand the marked bill to a country justice. He showed bad judgment when he tried to fool me with a fancy lie. But you are the real bungler, Senhor Alcatrante. Any capable diplomat could tell you that.”
Alcatrante’s yellow face grew white about the lips. His eyes flashed balefully.
“Curse you!” he exclaimed. “You know more than is good for you. Take care!”
Orme laughed in disgust. “Oh, drop this melodrama. I am not afraid of cheap Machiavellis. In this country there are some crimes that are not excused by high office.”