“We live in dangerous times,” observed the man in a casual tone, which, however, was contradicted by the intense meaning in the look he gave his companion; “dangerous times, and there are many events happening and going to happen which may not be written.”
“That is true enough,” Zarka assented, responding to the look, but speaking in the same phlegmatic tone. “When once it is certain that it is nobody’s business to inquire into matters, why, anything, be it ever so desperate, may be done with impunity.”
“You are right, friend,” the man replied. “But not till then. They who take forbidden paths must walk warily. They know better than to hurry. To rush forward is to court discovery and its consequences.”
Looking straight in front of him Zarka nodded twice, and the action was calculated to leave no doubt in his companion’s mind that he comprehended the drift of his somewhat general remarks, and was fully able to apply them to a particular case. “Whereas,” he said with a half-yawn, “by taking his time a man may tire out the vigilance of his watchers and get through unseen. Yes, my friend, that is very true, and is, no doubt, perfectly understood by those whose secret actions make our history.”
The man, affecting to change his position, touched him sharply. Zarka glanced at him, and then at the door. Probably none but an eye sharpened by suspicion would have detected a form behind it as it stood slightly open. With an alert movement of the arm Zarka knocked over his glass.
“Landlord!” he called, watching the door.
It was pushed open and the man who had stood behind it came in, followed by the innkeeper. Zarka ordered his glass to be refilled, then carelessly turned his attention to the newcomer, and conceived a shrewd idea as to his identity. The astute Count was right in his surmise. It was the man who had shot the boar, he who called himself Abele d’Alquen.
“I always maintain,” Zarka observed, as though resuming a subject interrupted by the accident with the glass, “that the less a man speaks the safer he is. It is best to know nothing; it is next best to keep others ignorant of what we know.”
“A wise saying, friend,” his companion responded. “Since we never know who are our friends and who are our enemies.”
Zarka turned quickly to him, his mouth drawn back in a sinister smile. “Sometimes we do,” he remarked, and the other understood him.