The Baron carefully selected a cigar, and lit it.
“That,” he said, “goes well, but there are other things.”
“As, for instance?”
De Grost leaned back in his chair, and watched the smoke of his cigar curl upwards.
“One talks too much,” he remarked. “Before the cards are upon the table, it is not wise.”
They chatted upon various matters. De Grost himself seemed in no hurry to depart, nor did his companion show any signs of impatience. It was not until the two people whose entrance had had such a remarkable effect upon Bernadine, rose to leave, that the mask was, for a moment, lifted. De Grost had called for his bill and paid it. The two men strolled out together.
“Baron,” Bernadine said, suavely, linking his arm through the other man’s as they passed into the foyer, “there are times when candor even among enemies becomes an admirable quality.”
“Those times, I imagine,” De Grost answered, grimly, “are rare. Besides, who is to tell the real thing from the false?”
“You do less than justice to your perceptions, my friend,” Bernadine declared, smiling.
De Grost merely shrugged his shoulders. Bernadine persisted.