“Mr. Laverick,” he answered, “let us first apologize if we used a little subterfuge to procure for us the pleasure of your visit. We are men who are in earnest, and across whose path you have either wilfully or accidentally strayed. An understanding between us has become a necessity.”
“Go on,” Laverick interrupted. “Tell me exactly who you are and what you want.”
“As to who we are,” Streuss answered, “does that really matter? I repeat that we are men who are in earnest—let that be enough. As to what we want, it is a certain document to which we have every claim, and which has come into your possession—I flatter you somewhat, Mr. Laverick, if I say by chance.”
Laverick shrugged his shoulders.
“Let that go,” he said. “I know all about the document you refer to, and the notes. They were contained in a pocket-book which it is perfectly true has come into my possession. Prove your claim to both and you shall have them.”
Streuss smiled.
“You will admit that our claim, since we know of its existence,” he asked suavely, “is equal to yours?”
“Certainly,” Laverick answered, “but then I never had any idea of keeping either the document or the money. That your claim is better than mine is no guarantee that there is not some one else whose title is better still.”
Streuss frowned.
“Be reasonable, Mr. Laverick,” he begged. “We are men of peace—when peace is possible. The money of which you spoke you can consider as treasure trove, if you will, but it is our intention to possess ourselves of the document. It is for that reason that we are here in London. I, personally, am committed to the extent of my life and my honor to its recovery.”