“Each will wear a small stickpin with a crown,” answered Tholbin. “I have all the information here.”
He showed the end of an envelope from his inner pocket. Senov’s thick, brutal face displayed a firm smile.
“That is all good,” he declared. “You have received information as well as instructions. I know that all is well. I shall leave you, now. My duty is here in Paris. There may be trouble for me. I do not worry. Trouble for me means no trouble for you—”
Senov broke off his discourse, realizing that perhaps he was saying more than he should. He bowed and walked to the door. Tholbin followed him.
“It would be best for you to go ahead,” suggested Senov. “Perhaps, if I have been followed here — not likely, of course — but it is wise to be wise—”
David Tholbin shrugged his shoulders and went down a flight of steps to the lobby of the hotel. To him, these visits of Senov seemed a great hoax, engineered by the eccentric brain of the lawyer, Parker Noyes.
Tholbin had received various orders from Noyes; but the only foreign agent he had encountered was Senov. He knew nothing of the man’s history, and he did not care. He was leaving with the Waddells for Cherbourg, tonight. That, too, had been the doing of Parker Noyes.
All that concerned Tholbin was the fact that a large, heavily locked trunk had been delivered to his keeping, and that it was now on its way aboard ship.
IN the lobby, Tholbin paused long enough to settle a bill at the desk. The Frenchman in charge spoke English, and Tholbin, remembering that it would be wise to guard his actions, mentioned casually that he would be back within an hour.
Turning, a few minutes later, Tholbin saw Senov walking by and, almost unconsciously, nodded in the Russian’s direction. Senov ignored the sign and kept on his way.