"Alas!" he confessed, "I fear that my claim would sound a little cold-blooded. I think that I was the only man who held his gun straight. Yet, after all, Roche would be the last to bear me any grudge. He was playing the game, taking his risks. Uncommonly bad marksmen Grex's private police were, or he'd be in the morgue instead of the hospital."
"I gather that our friend is still alive?" Hunterleys remarked.
"Going on as well as could be expected," Selingman replied.
"Conscious?"
Selingman smiled.
"You see through my little visit of sympathy at once!" he exclaimed. "Unable to converse, I am assured, and unable to share with his friends any little information he may have picked up last night. By the way, whom shall you send to report our little conference to-night? You wouldn't care to come yourself, would you?"
"I should like to exceedingly," Hunterleys assured him, "if you'd give me a safe conduct."
Selingman withdrew his cigar from his mouth and laid his hand upon the other's shoulder.
"My dear friend," he said earnestly, "your safe conduct, if ever I signed it, would be to the other world. Frankly, we find you rather a nuisance. We would be better pleased if your Party were in office, and you with your knees tucked under a desk at Downing Street, attending to your official business in your official place. Who gave you this roving commission, eh? Who sent you to talk common sense to the Balkan States, and how the mischief did you get wind of our little meeting here?"
"Ah!" Hunterleys replied, "I expect you really know all these things."