Van Teyl glanced at the clock in an undecided manner.
"I'll change right away," he decided. "Just set things to rights in here, fill my cigarette case, and hang round by the telephone."
Nikasti bowed, and the young man disappeared into the inner room. His new attendant waited until the door was closed. Then he removed the receiver from its hook, laid it upon the table, and moved stealthily towards the open fireplace. For several moments he remained in an attitude of listening, then with quick, lithe fingers he drew from his pocket a cable dispatch, reread it with an air of complete absorption, and committed it to the flames. He watched it burn, and turned away from the contemplation of its grey ashes with a sigh of content. Suddenly he started. The door of the sitting-room had been opened and closed. A tall, broad-shouldered man, wearing gold-rimmed spectacles, a long travelling coat and a Homburg hat, was standing watching him. Nikasti was only momentarily disturbed. His look of gentle inquiry was perfect.
"You wish to see my master—Mr. Van Teyl?" he asked.
"Where is he?" Fischer demanded.
"He is dressing in the next apartment. I will take him your name."
Fischer threw his coat and hat upon the table.
"That'll do directly," he replied. "So you're Nikasti?"
They looked at one another for a moment. The face of the Japanese was smooth, bland, and imperturbable. His eyes were innocent even of any question. Fischer's forehead was wrinkled, and his brows drawn close together.
"I am Nikasti," the other acknowledged—"Kato Nikasti. Mr. Van Teyl has just engaged me as his valet."