“As a matter of fact, it isn’t at all queer,” he answered. “I don’t want the money. I came to see whether you were really interested in the other affair—the Turkish loan, you know.”
Mr. Heseltine-Wrigge withdrew his cigar from his mouth and looked steadily at his visitor.
“Say, Baron,” he declared, “you’ve got a nerve!”
“Not at all,” Peter replied. “I’m here as much in your interests as my own.”
“Whom do you represent, anyway?” Mr. Heseltine-Wrigge inquired.
“A company you have never heard of,” Peter replied. “Our offices are in the underground places of the world, and we don’t run to brass plates. I am here because I am curious about that loan. Turkey hasn’t a shadow of security to offer you. Everything which she can pledge is pledged, to guarantee the interest on existing loans to France and England. She is prevented by treaty from borrowing in Germany. If you make a loan without security, Mr. Heseltine-Wrigge, I suppose you understand your position. The loan may be repudiated at any moment.”
“Kind of a philanthropist, aren’t you, Baron?” Mr. Heseltine-Wrigge remarked quietly.
“Not in the least,” Peter assured him. “I know there is some tricky work going on and I haven’t brains enough to get to the bottom of it. That’s why I’ve come blundering in to you, and why I suppose you’ll be telling the whole story to the Count von Hern at luncheon in an hour’s time.”
Mr. Heseltine-Wrigge smoked in silence for a moment or two.
“This transaction of mine,” he said at last, “Isn’t one I can talk about. I guess I’m on to what you want to know, but I simply can’t tell you. The security is unusual, but it’s good enough for me.”