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Page 10
"Pardon me! I was thinking out loud about a sum of money."
"Ah!" And yet the chancellor realized that the other was telling him
as plainly as he dared that the German government had offered such a
sum to forward the very intrigue which he was so emphatically denying.
"Why not turn the matter over to your own ambassador here?"
The secret agent laughed. "Publicity is what neither your government
nor mine desires. Thank you."
"I am sorry not to be of some service to you."
"I can readily believe that, your excellency," not to be outdone in the
matter of duplicity. "I thank you for your time."
"I hadn't the least idea that you were in the service; butterflies and
diplomacy!" with a hearty laugh.
"It is only temporary."
"Your _Alpine Butterflies_ compares favorably with _The Life of the
Bee_."
"That is a very great compliment!"
And with this the interview, extraordinary in all ways, came to an end.
Neither man had fooled the other, neither had made any mistake in his
logical deductions; and, in a way, both were satisfied. The chancellor
resumed his more definite labors, and the secret agent hurried away to
the nearest telegraph office.
"So I am to stand on these two feet?" Monsieur Ferraud ruminated, as he
took the seat by the window in the second-class carriage for Munich.
"All the finer the sport. Ten thousand marks! He forgot himself for a
moment. And I might have gone further and said that ninety thousand
marks would be added to those ten thousand if the bribe was accepted
and the promise fulfilled."
Ah, it would be beautiful to untangle this snarl all alone. It would
be the finest chase that had ever fallen to his lot. No grain of sand,
however small, should escape him. There were fools in Berlin as well
as in Paris; and he knew what he knew. "Never a move shall he make
that I shan't make the same; and in one thing I shall move first. Two
million francs! Handsome! It is I who must find this treasure, this
fulcrum to the lever which is going to upheave France. There will be
no difficulty then in pricking the pretty bubble. In the meantime we
shall proceed to Munich and carefully inquire into the affairs of the
grand opera singer, Hildegarde von Mitter."
He extracted a wallet from an inner pocket and opened it across his
knees. It was full of butterflies.
CHAPTER III
A PLASTER STATUETTE
Fitzgerald's view from his club window afforded the same impersonal
outlook as from a window in a car. It was the two living currents,
moving in opposite directions, each making toward a similar goal, only
in a million different ways, that absorbed him. Subconsciously he was
always counting, counting, now by fives, now by tens, but invariably
found new entertainment ere he reached the respectable three numerals
of an even hundred. Sometimes it was a silk hat which he followed till
it became lost up the Avenue; and as often as not he would single out a
waiting cabman and speculate on the quality of his fare; and other
whimsies.
That this was such and such a woman, or that was such and such a man
never led him into any of that gossip so common among club-men who are
out of touch with the vital things in life. Even when he espied a
friend in this mysterious flow of souls, there was only a transient
flash of recognition in his eyes. When he wasn't in the tennis-courts,
or the billiard- or card-rooms, he was generally to be found in this
corner. He had seen all manner of crowds, armies pursuing and
retreating, vast concords in public squares, at coronations, at
catastrophes, at play, and he never lost interest in watching them;
they were the great expressions of humanity. This is perhaps the
reason why his articles were always so rich in color. No two crowds
were ever alike to him, consequently he never was at loss for a fresh
description.
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