“I swear that it is not,” he asserted hotly.
“Swear again,” I retorted, “for I’ll not deal with you for less than five thousand.”
He did swear again and protested loudly. But I was firm.
“Have another glass of wine,” I said.
After which he gave in.
The affair was bound to be risky. Smugglers of English goods were determined and desperate men who were playing for high stakes and risking their necks on the board. In all matters of smuggling a knowledge of foreign languages was an invaluable asset. I spoke Italian well and knew some English. I knew my worth. We both drank a glass of cognac and sealed our bond then and there.
After which Leroux drew his chair closer to my desk.
“Listen, then,” he said. “You know the firm of Fournier Frères, in the Rue Colbert?”
“By name, of course. Cutlers and surgical instrument makers by appointment to His Majesty. What about them?”
“M. le Duc has had his eyes on them for some time.”