If Renoux was surprised he scarcely showed it.
Barres said:
“As long as you know that she is under my protection, I want you to come to my place and talk to her. I don’t ask you to accept my judgment in regard to her; I merely wish you to listen to what she has to say, and then come to your own conclusions. Will you do this?”
For a few moments Renoux sat quite still, his clear, intelligent eyes fixed on the smoking tip of his cigar. Without raising them he said slowly:
“As we understand it, Nihla Quellen has been a spy from the very beginning. Our information is clear, concise, logical. We know her history. She was the mistress of Prince Cyril, then of Ferez, then of d’Eblis—perhaps of the American banker, Gerhardt, also. She came directly from the German Embassy at Constantinople to Paris, on Gerhardt’s yacht, the Mirage, and under his protection and the protection of Comte Alexandre d’Eblis.
“Ferez was of the party. And that companionship of conspirators never was dissolved as long as Nihla Quellen remained in Europe.”
“That Nihla Quellen has ever been the mistress of 283 any man is singularly untrue,” said Barres coolly. “Your Government has to do with a chaste woman; and it doesn’t even know that much!”
Renoux regarded him curiously:
“You have seen her dance?” he enquired gravely.
“Often. And, Renoux, you are too much a man of the world to be surprised at the unexpected. There are white blackbirds.”