The almost casual manner in which the manager spoke struck Max as being doubly horrible. He seemed to think nothing at all of the execution of a fellow-creature, and one who had been closely associated with him for a good many years.
"I am aware of it," replied Max as quietly as he could.
"Well, it seems a pity. Such a young fellow, and one so energetic and keen in his business, and with a brilliant future before him," said the manager in a smooth, velvety voice that Max had known him use to influential business men when he was specially anxious to gain his point. "I have, in fact, Monsieur Max, been talking your unfortunate case over with the governor. I have told him that, serious as this offence of yours undoubtedly is, you are really the tool of others. He is, of course, much incensed against you for the destruction of so important a workshop, but is ready to be merciful—upon conditions."
"Ah! and what conditions?"
"Not hard ones," replied M. Schenk, obviously pleased by the eagerness with which Max spoke. "You stole some plans of mine a month or so ago——? Yes? I thought it must be you, and I am ready to go to some lengths to get them back."
"They have left my hands, Monsieur Schenk."
"Where are they?"
"In the hands of the English Government."
"You rascal!" shouted M. Schenk furiously, his smooth, easy manner utterly giving way. "You—you—but, after all, I thought as much; and they were really of no great value," he ended lamely, recovering himself with an obvious effort.
"I thought they were," replied Max coldly.