He drew back a little, with outstretched hands. Selingman's face, however, remained expressionless.
"Married already!" he commented. "Well, that is rather a surprise."
"A surprise? To be frank, it terrifies me!" the Count cried. "Heaven knows what that woman could tell an Englishman, if she chose! And her manner—I did not like it. The only reassuring thing about it was that she told me that her husband was one of your men."
"Quite true," Selingman assented. "He is. It is only recently that he came to us, but I do not mind telling you that during the last few weeks no one has done such good work. He is the very man we needed."
"You have trusted him?"
"I trust or I do not trust," Selingman replied. "That you know. I have employed this young man in very useful work. I cannot blindfold him. He knows."
"Then I fear treachery," the Count declared.
"Have you any reason for saying that?" Selingman asked.
The Count lit a cigarette with trembling fingers.
"Listen," he said, "always, my friend, you undervalue a little the English race. You undervalue their intelligence, their patriotism, their poise towards the serious matters of life. I know nothing of Mr. Francis Norgate save what I saw this morning. He is one of that type of Englishmen, clean-bred, well-born, full of reserve, taciturn, yet, I would swear, honourable. I know the type, and I do not believe in such a man being your servant."