“My dear Baron,” he said, “I hope you are going to say that you are glad to see me.”
“Unless,” Peter replied, with a good-humored grimace, “your visit is official, I am more than glad—I am charmed. Sit down. I was just going to take my morning cigar. You will join me? Good! Now I am ready for the worst that can happen.”
The two men seated themselves. John Dory pulled at his cigar appreciatively, sniffed its flavor for a moment, and then leaned forward in his chair.
“My visit, Baron,” he announced, “is semi-official. I am here to ask you a favor.”
“An official favor?” Peter demanded quickly.
His visitor hesitated as though he found the question hard to answer.
“To tell you the truth,” he declared, “this call of mine is wholly an inspiration. It does not in any way concern you personally, or your position in this country. What that may be I do not know, except that I am sure it is above any suspicion.”
“Quite so,” Peter murmured. “How diplomatic you have become, my dear friend!”
John Dory smiled.
“Perhaps I am fencing about too much,” he said. “I know, of course, that you are a member of a very powerful and wealthy French Society, whose object and aims, so far as I know, are entirely harmless.”