Government Secrets.
Like most doors separating rooms in Continental hotels those of the Univers at Tours were no exception. They were thin, and Hubert, kneeling with his ear to the crack, could distinctly hear the conversation between the Cabinet Minister who was passing under the unassuming name of Emilio Conio.
Apparently His Excellency had only a very limited knowledge of German, and the pair were therefore speaking in very indifferent French. The Italian can seldom speak French well.
Very soon Waldron ascertained that the secret meeting had been arranged in order to discuss a forthcoming army contract for one hundred and eighty thousand pairs of boots, lucrative, no doubt. Contracts in these days are always lucrative. There is commission somewhere.
“We have had many tenders,” His Excellency said. “Firms in England, France, and Italy have sent in quotations and samples, in addition to four German firms, including your own.”
“But they are all strangers, Your Excellency, no doubt,” replied the gentleman from Berlin very suavely. “We are not strangers, and the terms we offer must, I think, commend themselves to you. Our last deal turned out satisfactory for both sides, did it not?”
“Except that my secretary became suddenly most avaricious.”
“By some indiscretion on Your Excellency’s part, no doubt. Secretaries are only hirelings.”
“Probably I was foolish,” the General laughed. “But as I wrote you, I think that if I pass an order of this magnitude your firm ought to—well, they ought to increase its generosity.”
“Ah! Excellency, things are cut so terribly fine. You do not know. In order to compete with those Northampton and Leicester firms we have to be content with the very slightest margin of profit, and after our secret commission to you there is really nothing left. We have to live and pay our people. Besides you tie us down so rigidly to dates of delivery.”