"There is no man in the world who can afford to despise the power of money," Estermen said quietly.
"Are you here to offer me any?"
"I am not. Have you anything to give in exchange for it?"
Julien laughed a little shortly.
"I imagined," he declared, "that with your first remarks you had climbed to the dizziest heights of impertinence. I perceive that I was mistaken. I am a discarded minister,"—dryly. "I may be supposed to have in my possession secrets for which your country would pay. Is it not to those facts that I am indebted for the honor of this visit?"
"Not in the least," answered Estermen. "Our own Secret Service keeps us supplied with such information as we desire. My object in seeking you is this. The Prince von Falkenberg is in Paris for a few hours only. He wants to meet you. I have been ordered to arrange this meeting, if possible."
Julien did not attempt to conceal his interest.
"Why on earth didn't you say so at once?" he exclaimed. "What does he want of me?"
Estermen shrugged his shoulders.
"Who knows? Who knows what Falkenberg ever wants? He is here, there and everywhere—today in Paris, tomorrow in Berlin, next week in Moscow. Yet it is he, as you know well, who shapes the whole destinies of my country. It is he alone in whom the Emperor has blind and absolute confidence. If he holds up his hand, it is war. If he holds it down, it is peace."