"A sister manicurist, I expect," Julien replied scornfully; "a palmist, or some creature of that sort."
Kendricks hammered upon the table for the waiter.
"One takes one's chances," he agreed, "but I do not think that the little girl over there would send you upon a fool's errand. There are other things in life, you know, Julien. You carry in your head political secrets which would be worth a great deal. There may be danger in that call."
Julien looked at him with faintly curling lip.
"Tell me exactly what you mean?" he asked.
Kendricks shrugged his shoulders. The waiter had arrived and he gave him a vociferous order.
"Listen," he said, "I could hand you out a hundred surmises and each one of them ought to be sufficient to induce you to keep that appointment. You leave here—shall we say under a cloud?—presumably disgusted with life, with the Government which gives you no second chance, with your country which discards you. And you have been Under-Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs. Can't you conceive that this woman on whom you are to call might make suggestions to you which would at least be amusing? Don't look so incredulous, Julien. Remember you've lived in the stilted places. I haven't. I believe in the underground world. You must know for yourself that a great deal of the truth leaks up through the gratings."
"That is true enough," Julien admitted, "but somehow or other—"
"Let it go at that," Kendricks interrupted. "Promise me that you will call at that address."
Julien laughed.