The King’s estimate of Lambarini was therefore perfectly correct.
With Pironti it was different. As His Excellency’s secretary he was a man who pandered in every way to all his Chief’s whims and foibles. He was a bachelor, and spent his evenings in the gaming clubs and other questionable haunts, and had been known to lose considerable sums at baccarat. He frequented the political cafés and the variety theatres, and it was also well-known in the army that no one could obtain the ear of His Excellency without first obtaining “the good graces of his secretary.”
“These good graces you mention, Signor Pucci, mean money, I suppose!” remarked Waldron suddenly in Italian.
“Si, signore,” replied the dark-faced detective, with a smile.
Continuing, the report stated that Pironti often associated with undesirable persons, and, further, that it was a known fact that he had received from many officers who had sought promotion douceurs to a considerable amount. Indeed in the army it was declared that so lax was His Excellency in his duties as Minister that he left Pironti to prepare the lists of both promotions and military decorations, merely taking care that the names of none of his enemies appeared there, and scribbling his signature to the decree for the King’s approval.
Hubert Waldon sighed when he had finished that most instructive document.
Then, rising, he placed it in a drawer of his writing-table and locked it safely away.
“So His Excellency and his secretary are not exactly above accepting bribes—eh?” he asked, throwing himself again in his chair.
“According to the result of my inquiries they seem to be both reaping a golden harvest,” Pucci said. “But perhaps not greater than in any other department.”
“The police excepted, I hope,” laughed the diplomat.