"No, you told me nothing about it," Kendricks replied, leaning forward with interest. "What sort of an offer? Go on, tell me about it?"
"He wanted me," Julien continued, "to undertake the command of an expedition to some place which he did not specify, to discover whether a German who was living there was being held a prisoner—"
"Oh, là, là!" Kendricks interrupted. "Tell me what your reply was?"
"I told him that I must consult you first. As a matter of fact, I never thought seriously about it at all. The whole affair seemed to me so vague, and it didn't attract me in the least. I don't know whether you can understand what I mean, but to me it appeared to be an entirely artificial suggestion. If such a thing had been reasonable at all, I should have said that it was an offer invented on the spur of the moment by Herr Freudenberg, to get me out of Paris."
"Really, Julien," declared Kendricks, "I am beginning to have hopes of you. There are times when you are almost bright."
"What are you here for?" Julien asked. "Is there anything wrong in
London?"
"Anything wrong!" Kendricks growled. "You and your foolish letters, Julien! You left the way open for that little bounder Carraby and he'll do for us. Lord, how they love him in Berlin!"
"They are not exactly appreciating him over here, are they?" Julien remarked. "I don't understand the tone of the Press at all. There's something at the back of it all."
"There is," Kendricks agreed grimly. "Sit tight, wait till we are in your rooms. I'll tell you some news."
"We are there now," Julien replied, as the little carriage pulled up. "Follow me, Kendricks, and take care of the stairs. I hope you like the smell of new bread? You see, the ground floor is occupied by a confectioner's shop. It keeps me hungry half the time."