"I should think every one would enjoy it immensely," Hunterleys answered.
"I can count on you, of course, if I arrange anything?"
"I am afraid not," Hunterleys regretted. "I am too much engrossed now to make any arrangements."
"I'm hanged if you don't get more mysterious every moment!" Richard exclaimed vigorously. "What's it all about? Can't you even be safe in your room for five minutes without keeping one of those little articles under your newspaper while you read your letters?" he added, lifting with his stick the sheet which Hunterleys had hastily thrown over a small revolver. "What's it all about, eh? Are you plotting to dethrone the Prince of Monaco and take his place?"
"Not exactly that," Hunterleys replied, a little wearily. "Lane, old fellow, you're much better off not to know too much. I have told you that there's a kind of international conference going on about here and I've sort of been pitchforked into the affair. Over in your country you don't know much about this sort of thing, but since I've been out of harness I've done a good deal of what really amounts to Secret Service work. One must serve one's country somehow or other, you know, if one gets the chance."
Richard was impressed.
"Gee!" he exclaimed. "The sort of thing that one reads about, eh, and only half believes. Who's the French Johnny who arrived last night?"
"Douaille. He's the coming President, they say. I'm thinking of paying him a visit of ceremony this afternoon."
There was a knock at the door. A waiter entered with a note upon a salver.
"From Madame, monsieur," he announced, presenting it to Hunterleys.