“It is pleasant to have something agreeable to look forward to,” she replied, ironically suggestive.
“Isn’t it?” he approved. “I don’t know anything more pleasant—unless it is the finishing stroke of an affaire Diplomatique.”
“Do you anticipate the finishing stroke to the present affair?”
“In due time.”
“Due time?” she inflected.
“Whatever is necessary in the premises,” he explained.
“It hasn’t then gotten beyond the premises?”
“No, it hasn’t gotten beyond the premises,” he replied—with an inward chuckle.
There was no occasion to explain that, by the latter premises, he meant herself. His whole scheme was dependent on her having the traitorous letter in her possession. He was quite sure Snodgrass had received it by mail at the Rataplan; and why had he put the unopened envelope in his pocket unless to give it to her on their way to the Chateau. And as he (Harleston) had caught her as she alighted from the taxi, and had hurried her off to the State Department, she must still have it. Of course, there was the possibility that Snodgrass had not yet delivered it; so Snodgrass was being looked after by others.
“Won’t you give me a line on his Excellency, Guy?” she asked. “Is he easy, or difficult, or neither?”