"Was he English, also?" pursued Sobieska relentlessly.
"Sure."
"Mark Carrick," was the almost surly answer.
"His business?"
"Scrivener."
"Why did you come to Krovitch?" The question was advanced suddenly, unexpectedly, as if to catch the chauffeur off his guard.
"I'm Captain Carter's man; you'd better arsk him." Carrick was displaying renewed signs of impatience.
Sobieska paused. He gravely turned to his associates, and, for their information, translated fairly and without comment what the chauffeur had said into French, with which language Sutphen and Muhlen-Sarkey seemed conversant.
"That you might correct any misstatements," he explained calmly to Carter.