I felt a touch upon my shoulder and turned around. It was Mr. de Valentin who stood there.
"I beg your pardon, Mr. Courage," he said, "but if you have nothing particular to do for a few minutes, will you smoke a cigarette with me?"
"With pleasure!" I answered. "I was just going into the smoke-room."
He stalked solemnly ahead, and I followed him along the corridor.
CHAPTER XXIII
THE PRETENDER
Mr. de Valentin led the way to a secluded corner of the smoke-room, and laid a well-filled cigarette case upon the table. He beckoned to the steward.
"You will take something?" he asked.
I ordered a whisky and soda and lit a cigarette. I had tasted nothing like them since I had left England. Mr. de Valentin leaned across the table towards me.
"Mr. Courage," he said, "I am going to ask you to accept a confidence from me. You are an English gentleman, and although I have not the honor to be myself an Englishman, my associations with your country have always been very close, and I am well aware that a special significance attaches itself to that term."