“Whatever you do,” the Minister observed, as they got out, “whatever you do, address me as ‘my dear fellow,’ from now on. I don’t at all like the idea of that American being able to boast of having put out a Minister of France. I mean to preserve the strictest incognito.”
M. Havard handed his card to a waiter, bidding him go and inform Mr. Tom Bob that he desired a few minutes’ conversation with him; then, after the man had gone, he assured his companion:
“Do not be afraid, Monsieur le Ministre ... beg pardon!... do not be afraid, my dear fellow: nobody shall guess who you are.”
“Monsieur Havard, I was expecting you”—smiling, cheerful, debonair, not the very least like a sick or tired man, Tom Bob welcomed M. Havard in one of the small sitting rooms of the hotel.
“You were expecting me, my dear colleague?”
“Certainly!”
Then, as Tom Bob was drawing up seats, and his eyes fell on the Minister, M. Havard thought it needful to add: “Allow me to introduce my senior secretary.”
The American vouchsafed a little supercilious smile for this subordinate. “Delighted, sir, delighted to meet you!” and he turned again to M. Havard, resuming:
“I was expecting you, because I supposed the Minister, having sent for me this morning and finding I did not come, would send someone to see me.”
The opportunity was too good a one for verifying an important point for M. Havard to neglect: