“I don’t need the Emperor’s money,” said von Essen.
“But the honors, eh? Suppose you should be recalled to the fatherland and ennobled, eh? Made a count, let us say? You have the wealth to support the position.”
“Uh!” grunted von Essen.
“But to wear honors one must earn them. You have been picked because you are the right man. We do not make mistakes. We need you.”
“No,” said von Essen, stubbornly.
“Listen, Herr von Essen,” said the stranger, his voice changing its tone from silkiness to something bordering on arrogance. “Last Thursday you rode to the city in your limousine with Mr. Bradley. I can repeat to you every word of your conversation. It was an unimportant conversation, but I know what was said. I can tell you what you had for dinner two weeks ago, and what you will have to-morrow. I can tell you every movement you have made for months.”
“Well,” said von Essen, uneasily.
“I have not wasted time on you for nothing. I say we need you—and you are going to do what you are told.”
“No. Why should I run risks? I’m willing to help in a reasonable way, but this dynamiting business—”
“Out of several hundred men serving the Emperor in this country, half a dozen have been caught. There is no risk, and there will be great gain. It is not for you to refuse or accept. You have your orders, Herr von Essen.”