The well-dressed Riviera-lounger—the man so well known at all the various gay resorts from Ventimiglia along to Cannes, and who was a member of the Fêtes Committee at San Remo and at Nice—merely exchanged glances with his friend and smiled. Quickly, however, he changed the topic of conversation. "And what's occurring in Paris?"
"Ah, there we have the puzzle!" replied the man Krail, his accent being an unfamiliar one—so unfamiliar, indeed, that those unacquainted with the truth were always placed in doubt regarding his true nationality.
"But you've made inquiry?" asked his friend quickly.
"Of course; but the business is kept far too close. Every precaution is taken to prevent anything leaking out," Krail responded.
"The clerks will speak, won't they?" the other said.
"Mon cher ami, they know no more of the business of the mysterious firm of which the blind Baronet is the head than we do ourselves," said Krail.
"They make enormous financial deals, that's very certain."
"Not deals—but coups for themselves," he laughed, correcting Flockart. "Recollect what I discovered in Athens, and the extraordinary connection you found in Brussels."
"Ah, yes. You mean that clever crowd—four men and two women who were working the gambling concession from the Dutch Government!" exclaimed Flockart. "Yes, that was a complete mystery. They sent wires in cipher to Sir Henry at Glencardine. I managed to get a glance at one of them, and it was signed 'Metaforos.'"
"That's their Paris cable address," said his companion.