"You have come at an opportune time, Treves," he said.
John was seated now, and this time accepted a cigarette from the Baron's case. Suddenly, Rathenau looked him full in the face.
"You and I, Treves," he said, "have both been treated damnably!"
"Damnably!" answered John, wondering what was coming. The other continued:
"But there comes a time, Treves, eh, when the worm turns? You turned and I turned! You cast in your lot with our friend Manners, who knows how to appreciate loyalty! Manners," he continued, in the ironical tone that was his general habit, "fat and stupid and lazy as he is, is always willing to pay for loyalty!"
John looked into the Baron's thick-skinned, pallid face, into the steel-like eyes, and smiled inwardly. A pause came. John leaned forward.
"Cherriton," he said, "what are you leading up to?"
Manners, from the piano-stool, spoke up.
"Ah, you see, Cherriton—he is sharp, our friend Treves. Tell him what you want, Cherriton, straight out!"
He rose, came, for all his great bulk, softly across the room. He laid a fat hand on John's shoulder and looked down at him.