"He was brusque almost to rudeness, but his wife—"
"Ah, monsieur, his wife, what of her?" I asked, with a smile, for I well knew the fascinations of the Countess Zarfine.
"She knows, as I know," monsieur answered, "that, as in France, so in Russia, there are powerful influences against this alliance."
He lowered his voice and continued impressively, "Influences so powerful that it might be possible for them to obtain our secret papers, open them, read them, and then reseal them and pass them on to their destination."
"But that would be useless without the key to the cipher, mon ami."
"That is stolen in Paris."
"Ah! from whom?"
"The Count himself, and despatched at once to those awaiting it."
"Childlike in its simplicity," I murmured, with a world of satire.
"The Countess is a wonderful woman," he admitted, and then continued: "You see how easy it is. These people can gain access to the documents passing between France and Russia, but not to the key of the cipher—that is stolen here."