“This Ferez is one of those persistent, annoying flies which buzz around chancelleries and stir up diplomats to pernicious activities. You know there isn’t much use in swatting, as you say, the fly. No. Better find the manure heap which hatched him and burn that!”
He smiled and shrugged, relighted his cigar, and continued:
“So, mon ami, I am here in your charming and hospitable city to direct the necessary sanitary measures, sub rosa, of course. You have been more than kind. My Government and I have you to thank for this batch of papers——” He tapped his breast pocket and made salutes which Frenchmen alone know how to make.
“Renoux,” said Barres bluntly, “you have learned somehow that Nihla Quellen is under my protection. You conclude I am her lover.”
The officer’s face altered gravely, but he said nothing.
Barres leaned forward in his chair and laid a hand on his comrade’s shoulder:
“Renoux, do you trust me, personally?”
“Yes.”
“Very well. Then I shall trust you. Because there is nothing you can tell me about Nihla Quellen that I do not already know—nothing concerning her dossier in your secret archives, nothing in regard to the evidence against her and the testimony of the Count d’Eblis. And that clears the ground between you and me.”