De Grost drew a bunch of keys reluctantly from his pocket and laid them upon the desk.
“You will find the code bound in green morocco leather,” he announced, “on the left-hand side, underneath the duplicate of a proposed Treaty between Italy and some other Power. Between ourselves, Bernadine, I really expect that that is what you are after.”
Bernadine’s eyes glistened.
“What about the safe conduct into your house?” he asked.
De Grost drew his case from his pocket and wrote few lines on the back of one of his cards.
“This will insure you entrance there,” he said, “and access to my study. If you see my wife, please reassure her as to my absence.”
“I shall certainly do so,” Bernadine agreed, with a faint smile.
“If I may be pardoned for alluding to a purely personal matter,” De Grost continued, “what is to become of me?”
“You will be bound and gagged in the same manner as your manager and his clerk,” Bernadine replied, smoothly. “I regret the necessity, but you see, I can afford to run no risks. At four o’clock in the morning, you will be released. It must be part of our agreement that you allow the man who stays behind the others for the purpose of setting you free, to depart unmolested. I think I know you better than to imagine you would be guilty of such gaucherie as an appeal to the police.”
“That, unfortunately,” De Grost declared, with a little sigh, “is, as you well know, out of the question. You are too clever for me, Bernadine. After all, I shall have to go back to my farm.”