"That round, rosy little man with the decoration upon his coat is your interesting person," suggested he. "We shall put you as close to him as we can."
The secret agent examined the little man, who was possessed of a gleaming bald head, a cheerful manner, and a pronounced German accent; and while he was so doing, the secretary went on:
"As I said this afternoon, I am not always acquainted with my wife's arrangements. And now I find that we are also to have Matsadi—and Matsadi, if you are not already aware of the fact, is the Japanese minister's right-hand man."
"I have heard him mentioned," said Ashton-Kirk. "And I understand that he is clever."
"He has a wonderful touch—scarcely perceptible, and unusually successful."
At the table Ashton-Kirk found himself near to Matsadi and opposite the rosy little German. The Japanese was spare and narrow-faced; he wore glasses, talked little and ate less. But he seemed keenly alive to all that was said and done; his diffident smile approved of everything.
The little German ate a great deal and drank quite a bit more. And he talked ceaselessly. As the dinner progressed he grew rosier than ever; his eyes and his bald dome seemed trying to out-shine his decoration. There was a chuckle in his voice when he addressed his host, which was often, and his head nodded humorously over what were evidently intended as thickly veiled allusions. But as the secretary paid little attention to his sayings, the German began to direct his remarks to Matsadi. The latter replied with a courteous reserve which seemed to amuse the German vastly; sometimes he shook like a portly mould of gelatine.
"Ach, himmel!" said he, nodding to Ashton-Kirk, whose eye he happened to catch, "some the sense of humor have not. As for me, always do I laugh, whether the joke is on me or not."
"You are to be envied," replied the secret agent.
The little man cocked his eye at Matsadi in a most knowing manner.