“Father, you must leave this to me,” I said, firmly. “I have thought it all over in the train and my plans are made. You will trust me?”
“Tell me what they are,” he said.
“I have in my possession a box belonging to de Cartienne, which contains a secret. Until I yield that box up to him I am safe, since he can only get it from me. You see that he tells me in this note to bring it with me.”
“Yes. Go on.”
“Well, I am going without the box, and if he is really ignorant of who I am and willing to give me the information about Marx, why, then I can easily come back for it, and whatever it contains he must have unopened.
“If, on the other hand, I fall into any sort of trap and he makes me send for it, then, immediately on receipt of my message, no matter how it is couched, you must force the box open, and if it contains anything in the least suspicious, come straight to my aid with the police. The messenger who comes for the box must be bribed or frightened into bringing you.”
“I do not like it, Philip. It is all too roundabout. If de Cartienne has any idea who you are, you are running a risk.”
“I don’t think so,” I answered. “Until he gets possession of that box he will feel himself, to a certain extent, in my hands and will not be likely to do me an injury.”
“What do you suppose the box contains?”
I hesitated and looked around. de Cartienne’s servant was some distance off and there was no one within hearing.