"I not only suggest it," Duge answered, "but I am thoroughly convinced that such is the fact. Can you deny it?"
Mr. Deane shrugged his shoulders.
"The matter, so far as I am concerned in it," he answered, "is a personal one between Vine and myself. I cannot answer your question."
Phineas Duge shook his head thoughtfully.
"That, Mr. Deane," he said, "is where you make a great mistake. Permit me to say that your official position should, I am sure, preclude you from taking any part in this business. The matter, you say, is a private one. There can be no private matters between you, the paid and accredited agent of your country, and one of its citizens. To speak plainly, you have not the right to offer the shelter of the Embassy to the document which Norris Vine has committed to your charge."
"How do you know that he has done so?" Deane asked.
"Call it inspiration if you like," Duge answered. "In any case I am sure of it."
There was a short silence. Then Mr. Deane rose to his feet a little stiffly.
"Perhaps you are right," he said, "and yet I am not sure."
"A little reflection will, I think, convince you," Phineas Duge said quietly. "Your retention of that document means that you take sides in the civil war which seems hanging over my country. Further than that, it also means—and although it pains me to say so, Mr. Deane, I assure I you say it without any ill-feeling—a serious interruption to your career."