Slowly Topham shook his head. “Not intrinsically,” he answered. “But—but it was—of great personal value to me. Those men must have taken it. I suppose it is too late to find them?”
The Brazilian looked blank. “Dolt that I am!” he cried. “I destroyed the cards!”
Topham nodded. “Probably they would be useless, anyhow,” he muttered. “We will say no more about it, senor, if you will be so kind.”
The rest of the trip passed uneventfully. Topham was moody and said little, and Ferreira did not disturb him.
When Berlin was reached Ferreira leaped lightly from the train. “You will come to my hotel, and refresh yourself, senor; it is not so?” he invited.
But Topham shook his head. “Thank you,” he replied. “I must go first to the American Embassy. The secretary there is an old friend of mine. In fact I came by Berlin particularly to see him. So you will excuse me, senor.”
Ferreira bowed. “Ah!” he exclaimed. “El Senor Rutile! He is a friend of yours? A fine fellow, Rutile! Boni! I shall do myself the honor to call on you later. Auf wiedersehen, senor.”
With a nod and a bow he was gone.
Topham stared after him perplexedly. “I guess you were in it, my friend,” he syllabled, slowly; “and I guess you think you’ve won. But the game isn’t yours yet, not by a long shot.” He paused; then “God bless her,” he muttered. “She tried to save me! God bless her!”