"You have seen him. I know that."
"How do you know?"
"I know everything, my friend. You met him about an hour ago. You had a long talk with him. You have baited your hook, and thrown it. Before you could tell whether the fish would rise, you thought it better to wait. You decided to make further preparations."
"Romanoff, I believe you are the devil."
"Many a true word is spoken in jest, my friend. But, devil or not, am I not right?"
"You have seen him? He has told you?"
"He has told me nothing. Yes, he has, though. He has told me he had ambitions to be a Labour Member of Parliament."
"But nothing more?"
"Nothing more. I was passing along the street and spoke to him."
The two were looking at each other eagerly, questioningly. Mr. John Brown's face had become flabby; the flesh around his eyes was baggy. The eyes had a furtive look, as though he stood in awe of his companion. Romanoff, too, in spite of his claim to omniscience, might be a little anxious.