“The Prince Zouroff wishes to see you, sir.”
The Baron frowned. There were certain persons in the great world who were in his good books. The Russian Ambassador was certainly not. He knew a little too much about him.
He held up a warning finger to his secretary and crossed over to Nello.
“The Prince Zouroff is asking for an interview. You have played at the Russian Embassy; do you want to meet him?”
“No,” said Nello shortly; “I don’t think I do. I have heard that he is a bit of a brute.”
“Quite right, but, on account of his position, we have to cotton to him in a way. With your head over your desk you won’t see each other.”
The private secretary ushered in Prince Zouroff, the Russian Ambassador.
The Prince was a very overbearing and truculent personage; but he knew full well that even ambassadors have to preserve a modest demeanour, even as their sovereigns, in the presence of all-powerful financiers.
“Greetings to you, my dear Salmoros!” The Prince was always flamboyant. “The Czar has recalled me to St. Petersburg.”
Salmoros affected surprise. But he was not surprised in the least. He had received intimation of the news two days ago from the Russian Foreign Office itself.