"Well, neither would I," Fitzgerald added.
"My son, you are a man after my own heart. I was furious for the moment to think that he had outwitted me the first move. I did not want him to meet his confederates without my eyes on him. And there you have it. It is not the money, which is morally his; it is his friends, his lying, mocking friends."
"Are we fair to the admiral? He has set his heart on this thing."
"And shall we spoil his pleasure? Let him find it out later."
"Do you know Corsica?"
"As the palm of my hand."
"But the women?"
"They will never be in the danger zone. No blood will be spilled, unless it be mine. He has no love for me, and I am his only friend, save one."
"Suppose this persecution of Germany's was only a blind?"
"My admiration for you grows, Mr. Fitzgerald. But I have dug too deeply into that end of it not to be certain that Germany has tossed this bombshell into France without holding a string to it. Did you know that Breitmann had once been hit by a spent bullet? Here," pointing to the side of his head. "He is always conscious of what he does but not of the force that makes him do it. Do you understand me? He is living in a dream, and I must wake him."