“All?” he echoed, in surprise. “Is she such a mysterious person, then? Surely you have confidence in her, or you would not have asked her to be your wife?”
“There is a mystery connected with her,” I said quietly. “A mystery, deep and inscrutable, that perplexes me to the point of distraction.”
“Tell me about it,” Verblioudovitch said, interested.
It was upon my tongue to relate to him the whole of the facts sub silentio, but a thought at that instant occurred to me that such a course would be unjust to Ella, therefore I evaded his invitation to make him my confidant. Returning quickly to the object for which I had sought him, I persuaded him to assist me by giving me a passport for Sonia.
“What will she do in return?” he again inquired, raising his eyebrows and shrugging his shoulders in a manner habitual to him when unduly excited. “She will concoct some idiotic, romantic story, in order that the woman you love shall suffer. I really cannot see, Geoffrey, what end can be attained in assisting a criminal to re-enter the country from which she is a fugitive. You don’t know the real character of this apparently ingenuous girl, or I feel certain you would never ask me to imperil my reputation by rendering her assistance. If I had done my duty long ago, I should have allowed the extradition proceedings to go on. I’m sorry now I didn’t, for if I had you would have been saved a world of worry, and we should have been rid of the pair for ever.”
“You seem actuated by some spirit of animosity against her,” I blurted forth.
“Not at all. I’ve never seen her in my life,” he protested. “You apparently want confirmation of my words. Well, you shall have it at once,” and he touched an electric button.
The summons was instantly obeyed by a messenger in uniform, and to this man Paul spoke some words. A few minutes later a short, middle-aged Russian entered.
His hair was grey, his clean-shaven face was rather red and slightly pimply, his small, jet black eyes were set too closely together, and his low brows met above his nose. Fashionably attired in frock coat of light grey, with a pink carnation in the lapel, he looked so spick and span that I regarded him with genuine surprise, when my friend, introducing us, said,—
“This, Geoffrey, is Ivan Renouf; I daresay you have heard of him. He is now chief of the section of Secret Police attached to our Embassies of London and Paris.”