Quickly he rose, walked to the corner where the instrument was placed, and responded.
“The Onorevole Ricci desires to speak with your Excellency in private,” announced the voice which he recognised as one of his private secretaries.
“Va bene!” was the Minister’s anxious response.
Vito had, before they parted at the club, arranged to telephone to him in case of necessity.
“Are you there?” inquired the voice of the deputy for Asti.
“Yes. What is it?” asked the Minister, as through the instrument he distinctly heard the snap of the padded door of the telephone cabinet in the Ministry, which was now closed against listeners.
“It is as I thought,” Ricci said in a slow, distinct voice. “I have been active ever since my return, and it is just as I believed. Last night at the club, Lapi, Marchesi, Prosperi, and Montebruno were playing bridge together, and when they had finished at half-past two I joined them, and from their conversation learned that Montebruno is to bring forward the question of the French frontier in the Camera. This morning I saw Borselli and that young Frenchman Dubard walking together in the Corso. They were talking earnestly, and it seemed as though the count was telling Angelo something which surprised him. I stopped and spoke to them, but they appeared to betray some uneasiness at meeting me. What do you know about the Frenchman?”
“Nothing to his detriment,” was the Minister’s reply. “It is at present a secret, but he has asked me for Mary’s hand.”
“Then don’t give it.”
“Why?”