Van Zwieten looked his man up and down with a smile. His gaze alighted on those well-kept hands, which his visitor had placed on the desk to steady himself as he leaned forward. On the third finger of the left hand was a ring, and Van Zwieten recognized it. It was a gold signet ring with a crest.
The moment he set eyes on it, the spy jumped to a conclusion, which happened to be the right one. He knew now who his visitor was, and he played him as a skillful angler plays a trout. Not a muscle of his face moved, not a flush or a look betrayed his newly-gained knowledge. But he smiled behind his golden beard to think that he was master of the situation.
"So Mr. Mazaroff told you that I bought such things?" he said negligently.
"Yes, and that you paid a large price for them."
"Ah! and what would you call a fair price for these papers?"
"Say a thousand pounds."
"That is a very large price indeed. Too large, I fear, for me," said Van Zwieten, most amiably. "Perhaps you can see your way to make it lower?"
The visitor could not refrain from a movement of satisfaction, which was duly noted by the astute Dutchman.
"Well," he said, "I will do what I can to meet you." Van Zwieten smiled. He saw that the man was growing excited, and that in his excitement he would probably betray himself.
"That is accommodating of you, Mr. Dobbs. But how can I be certain this plan is genuine?"