‘Its nature, or the cause of it?’ inquired Rex, scrutinising the sheet of paper.
‘I suppose that they must be closely connected. Let me know the cause first—it will be the surest test.’
Rex laid the paper upon his knee, and folded his hands, looking his guest in the face.
‘Herr von Greifenstein, this is a very serious matter,’ he said, ‘If I tell you what I have just discovered, you will certainly believe that I knew it all before, and that I am acting a comedy. You must either bind yourself to put faith in my innocence, or we must drop this affair and talk of something else.’
Greif was silent for some moments. To refuse was to insult a man of whom he had gratuitously asked a question. To promise with the intention of keeping his word was impossible. He found himself in an awkward dilemma. Rex helped him out of it with his usual skill.
‘I will tell you what is passing in your mind, and why you are silent,’ he said. ‘You feel that you cannot believe me. I do not blame you. You will not give your word in such a case, because you must break it. You are quite right. You are full of curiosity to learn how much I know about you. It is very natural. The wisest thing to be done, is to sacrifice your curiosity and I will tear up this piece of paper.’
‘No—wait a moment!’ cried Greif anxiously, putting out his hand to prevent the act.
‘I do not see any other way out of the difficulty,’ observed Rex, leaning back in his chair and looking at the stove. ‘You may do this, however. You may think what you please of me, provided you do not express your disbelief. I am the most pacific of men, and I have a strong dislike to fighting at my age. Moreover, you asked me the question which led to all this. Even if I answer it, am I bound to explain the reasons for my reply? I believe the code of honour does not require that, and if there is nothing offensive to you in my predictions, I do not see why we need quarrel after all, nor what it matters how I obtained my information. I will promise, too, not to impart it to any one else. Of course, the simplest way of ending the matter would be to say no more about it.’
Somehow Rex’s words seemed to change the position. Greif was inwardly conscious that he would not leave the house without discovering how much his companion knew, and if this submission to his own curiosity was little flattering to his pride, it was at least certain that he could obtain what he wanted without derogating from his dignity if he would follow the advice Rex gave him.
‘The compact is to be this, I understand,’ he answered at length. ‘You will tell me what you know, and I will express no opinion as to the way in which you arrived at the information. Is that what you desire?’