Motkin smiled as he laid the papers in two piles: one for himself, the other for Prensky. He was glad that he had arranged for his aid to follow him. Prensky was not only a valuable man, he also knew a great deal regarding Motkin’s secret.
Gregori knew, also, but he could remain. It was Motkin’s belief that one man who alone knew damaging facts would seldom conspire; but when two, together, possessed the same knowledge, there was always danger.
A stolid serving woman was clearing up the dishes after Motkin’s meal, when Gregori entered. The chauffeur waited until the woman had gone. Then he spoke in a low voice to his chief.
“Prensky says the prisoner is ready,” announced Gregori. “He is awake and able to talk. He has said a few words, in English.”
“Where is he?”
“Prensky helped him into your office. He is waiting there.”
“Good,” declared Motkin.
He paused to take an envelope which Gregori tended him. This had just come from government headquarters. Motkin stopped at the foot of the stairs to read the contents. This was a report from Paris, giving the details of the hunt for Senov.
Motkin felt himself in luck. The definite connection of Senov with the case would make it easy for him to quiz his prisoner with leading questions. Evil gleamed in Motkin’s eyes as he ascended the stairs. The door to his office was open. Prensky appeared.
“He will be able to speak,” whispered the aid. “He is weak, but much better; the doctor was right. He can talk English only.”