'I will go home with you,' said Trist, 'because some precautions are necessary in order to escape observation on your journey to-morrow, and I have several suggestions to make.'
CHAPTER IX.
IN CASE OF WAR.
As the winter settled over Europe—here with gloom and fog, there with bright keen frosts and dazzling snow—the feeling of anxiety respecting affairs in the East slowly subsided. The general conviction was that Russia would not move against her hereditary Moslem enemy until the winter was over; for even hatred, sturdy weed though it may be, is killed by cold.
Theodore Trist, fresh from those mysterious Oriental lands which are so much more romantic from a distance, gave no opinion upon the matter, because he was a practical business-man, and fully aware of the market value of his observations.
By ten o'clock on the morning following the soirée of the Ancient Artists, he alighted from a hansom cab opposite the huge office of the journal to which his pen was pledged. A few moments later he was shaking hands uneffusively with the editor. This gentleman has been introduced before, and men at his age change little in appearance or habit. His vast head was roughly picturesque as usual, his speech manly and to the point.
'Glad to see you back,' he said, in a business-like way. 'Sit down. None the worse, I hope?' he added, in a softer tone, and accompanied his observation with a keen glance. 'None the worse for the smell of powder again?'
'No,' was the answer. 'That smell never did any man much harm.'
The editor smiled, and drew some straggling papers together upon his desk.
'I want,' said Trist, after a pause, 'to make a lot of money.'