“A little more than he used. But he tells me he is miserably paid, that the capitalists he works for suck his brains to swell their own enormous profits.”
Contraras smiled. “He has brains, and he is poorly paid—in a word, he enriches the drones. He seems just our man, Luçue.”
“I am sure of it,” answered the other warmly.
“Good! I shall be seeing him in Madrid very shortly. We will try his mettle. He shall have the management of the next coup.”
“And that, I take it, is the removal of that busy marplot, Guy Rossett?”
“Yes,” said Contraras shortly. “But keep it to yourself and Maceda as much as possible. I won’t have too many people in the know this time.”
Luçue and Maceda promised to observe silence. The other members of the fraternity had drawn respectfully aside while the three chiefs conversed together. Jaques, otherwise Mr Jackson, arrived presently, and was informed of the conversation. He was always to be trusted. He was as great an enthusiast as Contraras himself.
“How is my little Violet getting on?” he asked.
“So far she has done good quiet work,” was the chief’s answer. “Of course, she never had the grit of poor Valerie, nor, I think, the enthusiasm.”
“Possibly, possibly,” agreed Jaques, who was very fond of his pretty protégée. “But still, if she is a bit slow, she is certainly very sure. And, although we must all make sacrifices in the great cause when we are called upon, I am glad to think she is not in the position of poor Valerie. Ah, what a fate!”