The question was a supreme test of Moreno’s modesty, but he was not taken aback. He turned the situation lightly, and with his usual assurance.
“I am certain I should have done,” he said composedly.
Contraras frowned a little. He had been very fond of Valerie Delmonte; he rather resented any criticism of her.
“Why are you so sure, comrade Moreno? Valerie was very clever, very subtle. Are you more so?”
The young man looked at his chief calmly. “I daresay she was much more clever, much more subtle than I am, but she lacked my nerve.”
“Ah, there is something in that,” agreed the older man. “A woman may have the brains of a man, I agree, that is to say, an exceptional woman, but come to a crucial moment, and the brain will be dominated by the nerves. It is the penalty of the sex.”
The Chief ruminated over these remarks a few seconds before he spoke again.
“Well, Moreno, I am going to give you a chance to prove your mettle. You know the next item on our programme is the removal of Guy Rossett.” Moreno nodded. He had shot a side glance at Violet Hargrave, but she had betrayed no sign of emotion. And yet, in the flat at Mount Street, she had alluded to the project in a spirit of exultation.
“It was the first item on the programme, and was shelved in favour of the later one. What do you mean precisely by the term ‘removal’?” Contraras shrugged his shoulders. “That I have not yet quite decided upon. The first thing is to get hold of him.”
“That is quite easy,” said Moreno in his usual quiet way.