"Now to business, please ... No. 13 Toroni."
It seemed ages before Ferail opened his shining black eyes to their full extent and shot an enigmatic glance at Wallion, saying as he did so: "I don't take you."
"Have a little sense, Toroni," said Wallion with an ambiguous smile. "Perhaps you are not used to my ways ... but why should not we two be frank with each other? There are no witnesses!"
"I don't grasp your meaning," repeated Ferail, in the same tone of indifference.
"Well, I'll explain to you. First of all then I'll tell you how I know who you are. My theory is this: In all probability Toroni traveled to Stockholm in the same boat and the same train as Elaine, and both arrived simultaneously at Dreyel's studio; it is equally probable that, having accomplished his object, Toroni immediately returned to America. When one hears that a particular person used the same boat for a voyage there and back, one begins to take an interest in that person, and if he is short, thin and nimble the interest is heightened. You are that person, but it has yet to be proved whether you are identical with 'Toroni.' According to Christian Dreyel's account the man I saw in his garden was Toroni, but I only caught sight of his back as he was running away; his face was concealed by a high collar, and his hat tilted over his eyes. I watched you on deck this morning, it was blowing hard; your hat blew off and you ran after it. I saw your back and recognized at once the motion of your arms and your gentle tiptoeing. No, don't interrupt me ... the identification was conclusive. What should you say if I had you arrested on the spot and your four trunks containing 'antiques,' searched? Would you describe the two wooden dolls also as antique curios?"
Ferail had not moved, but he continued to stroke his beard.
"Unfortunately, I must again repeat that I don't understand you," he answered; "your conversation is very odd but rather interesting. I am Ricardo Ferail, born at Salonika, but an American citizen for the last ten years. I have visited your beautiful country in search of antiques, and can produce papers bearing me out."
"Of that I have not the least doubt," replied Wallion. "I am sure you protected yourself perfectly well."
"Now, supposing I were that Toroni," the Greek resumed, "should I be so careless as to have those dolls among my luggage? ... I can't tell ... but it seems to me that I should rather have sent them through the post to some address you would not know—you can't open every mailbag that leaves Sweden—or have hidden them somewhere after having found out their secret meaning. I might even have destroyed them. There are so many ways. The arresting of that Toroni you speak of would be a ticklish undertaking. Meanwhile the secret of the wooden dolls might be hopelessly lost, to you and your friends."
"You are a clever fellow," said Wallion. "That's why I want to come to an understanding or at least to make a bargain with you. I can arrest you now—and it entirely depends upon yourself whether I shall do so or not, for you have a shocking disregard for human life, Toroni, and you have already made an attempt to silence Elaine Robertson for good and all. Now as we shall be, if I mistake not, fellow travelers as far as Seattle, to begin with—for I am not going to lose sight of you—what say you to a truce during the voyage? I let you run to the end of your tether, and you stop molesting Elaine?"