The other nodded gloomily, his glance straying off toward the corner of the room.
"They've got to revolve a mighty lot more before the night's done!" he replied, with heavy significance.
"I needn't tell you," he continued, "that we must move in this venture with extreme caution. A single misstep at the outset, the slightest breath of suspicion, and pff! the entire superstructure falls to the ground."
"That is doubtless true, Mr. Farrington," murmured his companion, pleasantly. He leaned down to inhale the fragrant scent of the violets. "But you forget one little thing. This grand superstructure you speak of—so mysteriously"—he hid a slight smile—"I don't know it—all. You have seen fit, in your extreme caution, to withhold complete information from me."
He paused, and regarded his companion with a level, steady gaze. A faint, ironical smile played about the corners of his mouth; he spoke with a slightly foreign accent, which was at once pleasant and piquant.
"Is it not so, my friend?" he asked, softly. "I am—how you say—left out in the cold—I do not even know your immediate plans."
His countenance was serene and unruffled, and it was only by his slightly quickened breathing that the conversation held any unusual significance.
The other stirred uneasily in his chair.