Then the two men went out, walking at a smart pace, and Renoux sauntered into the tiny reception room.
“You don’t know,” he said, “what a very important service you have rendered us by catching that fellow to-night and stripping him of his papers.”
Barres rose and they walked out together.
“This city,” added Renoux, “is fairly verminous with disloyal Huns. The streets are crawling with them; every German resort, saloon, beer garden, keller, café, club, society—every German drug store, delicatessen shop, music store, tobacconist, is lousy with the treacherous swine.
“There are two great hotels where the boche gathers and plots; two great banking firms are centres of German propaganda; three great department stores, dozens of downtown commercial agencies; various 286 buildings and piers belonging to certain transatlantic steamship lines, the offices of certain newspapers and periodicals.... Tell me, Barres, did you know that the banker, Gerhardt, owns the building in which you live?”
“Dragon Court!”
“You didn’t know it, evidently. Yes, he owns it.”
“Is he really involved in pro-German intrigue?” asked Barres.
“That is our information.”
“I ask,” continued Barres thoughtfully, “because his summer home is at Northbrook, not far from my own home. And to me there is something peculiarly contemptible about disloyalty in the wealthy who owe every penny to the country they betray.”