“Good,” answered the General. “I shall sign the contract as soon as I return to Rome—the day after to-morrow—and send it to you in Berlin by special messenger.”
“Agreed. Perhaps you will write me a letter?”
“At once,” was the reply. Then after another brief silence, during which time both had scribbled some agreement, the German said:
“I think that will suffice.”
“And this?” asked the General.
They read each other’s letters, expressed satisfaction, and then Waldron heard a slight click, the opening and shutting of a wallet.
Some notes were counted out—to the sum of one thousand pounds. They rustled, and the listener knew that they were English notes so that they could not be traced so easily as those which the unscrupulous German contractor might withdraw from his own bank in Berlin.
His Excellency counted them, declared the sum to be correct, and then, after a further brief conversation the German left, His Excellency remaining so as not to be seen in his company.
The deal was concluded. Though interesting to Hubert, it however carried him no farther in his inquiry. It proved of course that General Cataldi, Minister of War, was corrupt and unscrupulous, yet were not the majority of the men who formed the Cabinet equally ready to accept bribes?
He stood in that artistically furnished bedroom full of chagrin. He had practically had his journey there for nothing, and had lost valuable time by his absence from Rome.