"Kindly explain, monsieur."
"I mean that I will gladly pay for any information."
"How much? Five, ten francs, a louis?"
The Pole's sarcasm was not to be mistaken. Julius was warned and drew back hurriedly.
"I really beg your pardon," he said; "but I am so anxious to carry out my undertaking that I have expressed myself awkwardly, and I see now that you are misinterpreting my motives. Let me speak quite candidly. I have no desire to meet the lady in person. An art connoisseur, who admires her work, wishes to send her to a cathedral in a distant city to copy a painting. He will pay well. He offers traveling expenses, hotel bill, and five thousand francs. The picture is not a large one, and the work easy, a Byzantine study of Saint Peter, I believe. If you tell me, monsieur, that you can arrange the matter, I shall be pleased to leave it entirely in your hands."
"Since when did Alec become a connoisseur?" demanded Poluski, grinning.
Marulitch was startled; but he smiled with a ready self possession that did him credit. "It was in Monsieur Delgrado's company I saw the fair unknown," he admitted; "but this affair does not rest with him. It is genuine, absolutely."
"Nevertheless, this Byzantine Saint Peter hangs in Delgratz, I suppose?"
"I—I think so."