"Goslin is with the old fellow. He has taken the girl's place as his confidential secretary," was the shabby man's reply, speaking with a foreign accent. "Walter Murie was at home for Christmas, but went to Cairo."
"And how are matters in Paris?"
"They are working hard, but it's an uphill pull. The old man is a crafty old bird. Those papers you got from the safe had been cunningly prepared for anybody who sought to obtain information. The consequence is that we've shown our hand, and heavily handicapped ourselves thereby."
"You told me all that when you were down here a month ago," Flockart said impatiently.
"You didn't believe me then. You do now, I suppose?"
"I've never denied it," Flockart declared, offering the stranger a Russian cigarette from his gold case. "I was completely misled, and by the girl also."
"The girl's influence with her father is happily quite at an end," remarked the shabby man. "I saw her last week in Woodnewton. The change from Glencardine to an eight-roomed cottage in a village street must be rather severe."
"Only what she deserves," snapped Flockart. "She defied us."
"Granted. But I cannot help thinking that we haven't played a very fair game," said the man. "Remember, she's only a girl."
"But dangerous to us and to our plans, my dear Krail. She knows a lot."