The sub-chief drew himself together, then turned sternly to his subordinate.
"See here, Kolinsky, that's impossible. I've been head of this bureau for ten years, and if documents of such importance had come into the possession of the French or any other government, I would have known about it. If they had been turned into this office I would have remembered."
"Nevertheless, Excellency, they are in Paris."
There was another long pause. The Russian lighted a cigarette, while he sought in silent meditation to unravel the mystery which seemed not only a challenge to his acuteness, but also an impeachment of his régime. With a casual movement that he hoped was unnoticed, he drew back into a shadow where he could note Kolinsky's face while his own avoided scrutiny.
"Kolinsky, how long have you been a member of the White Police?"
"Twelve years, Excellency."
"Two years before I came here, eh?" In a flash he had solved the enigma. "It is as I imagined. Have you the papers with you?"
"Yes, Excellency."
"May I see them?"
"They are my personal property, remember."