My eyes had been bent on my lap, but I glanced suddenly up at him, and saw his face in the light of the street lamps as we passed. Count Godensky is not more Mephistophelian in type than any other dark, thin man with a hook nose, keen eyes, heavy browed; a prominent chin and a sharply waxed, military moustache trained to point upward slightly at the ends. But to my fancy he looked absolutely devilish at that moment. Still, I was less afraid of him than I had been since the day I stole the treaty.
“Well,” I said slowly, “I think it’s time that you left me now.”
“That’s your answer? You can’t mean it.”
“I do mean it, just as much as I meant to refuse you the three other times that you did me the same honour. You asked me to hear what you had to say to-night, and I have heard it; so there’s no reason why I shouldn’t press the electric bell for my chauffeur to stop, and—”
“Do you know that you’re pronouncing du Laurier’s doom, to say nothing of your own?”
“No. I don’t know it.”
“Then I haven’t made myself clear enough.”
“That’s true. You haven’t made yourself clear enough.”
“In what detail have I failed? Because—”.
“In the detail of the document. I’ve told you I know nothing about it. You’ve told me you know everything. Yet—”