“I’ll do better for you than that,—I’ll send a subscription list round the office, and let you have the amount. His Excellency is sure to put his name down too.”
“And if there is any deficiency, I’ll make it up,” said Prigson.
“Certainly a State secret,” thought Van Teuten, amazed and confused at the turn matters had taken,—which he ascribed entirely to the secret. He too was involved in it,—but, alas! he had read nothing, that was not his habit. A good copying clerk never reads—he only writes. “To begin on Aug. 1st,”—that was all he could remember. But it must be a secret of the highest importance,—and the stranger who seemed to have the principal share in the business was—yes, what could he be? Then he remembered that Talm had spoken of an English millionaire, introduced by him at the White Club, and somehow connected with Van Arlen;—but the millionaire, according to Talm, knew not a word of Dutch—it was for that very reason that Van Arlen had entrusted him to Talm’s guidance; and now the secret document, and the unexpected help, and the change in his fortunes—had Van Arlen, perhaps, been raised to the ministry?...
Van Arlen and Prigson were left alone.
“Did you look over my papers?”
“Yes.”
“And——?”
“I don’t want to be in it; your business is not—not honest.”
“What do you call honest, Van Arlen?”
“Perhaps I expressed myself rather harshly—it is not what it seems to be.”