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Updated: May 19, 2025
"I have been waiting for you for more than an hour!" he exclaimed. I looked at him in some surprise. I had not yet grown accustomed to hear him speak in such a tone. "Did I say that I was coming straight back?" I asked. "Of course not," he answered. "After you left, though, I had some trouble with Monsieur Grisson.
Here, you see, is the railway line." Guy studied it for a few moments carefully, and looked at the scale. Then he pointed to a certain spot. "As near as I could say," he declared, "about there." The Duke and Monsieur Grisson exchanged quick glances. Guy was beginning to feel a little mystified. "Proceed, if you please," the Duke said courteously.
Monsieur Grisson rose to his feet. "Monsieur Poynton," he said, "we have all three heard your story as to what you witnessed in the forest of Pozen. It is part of your allegation that a page of writing from the private car which you were watching was blown to your feet, and that you picked it up and brought it to Paris with you. Look at this sheet of paper carefully. Tell me if it is the one."
The two men bowed politely and held out their hands. They were both typical well-dressed, good-looking Frenchmen, apparently of the upper class. Monsieur Decresson had a narrow black beard, a military moustache, a high forehead, pale complexion, and thoughtful eyes. Monsieur Grisson was shorter, with lighter-colored hair, something of a fop in his attire, and certainly more genial in his manner.
"I have asked my friend Count von Munchen to accompany me," Prince Korndoff explained, "because we are here to speak with you on a matter concerning which our interests are identical. You have read the demands which England has dared to lay before my master with reference to the encounter in the North Sea." Monsieur Grisson bowed. "I have studied them with great interest," he admitted.
Guy glanced at it for a moment, and handed it back. "It is certainly the one," he answered. "If you look at the back you will see my initials there and the date." Monsieur Grisson turned it over quickly. The two other men looked over his shoulder, and one of them gave a little exclamation. The initials and date were there. Then Monsieur Grisson turned once more to Guy.
It will be in the evening papers. Ah!" The telephone rang again. This time it was Monsieur Grisson who was required. He listened for a moment or two with inscrutable countenance. Then he glanced at the clock. "The Russian Ambassador," he said, replacing the receiver, "desires an immediate interview with me on a matter of the utmost importance and the Russian Fleet has left the Baltic!"
We should be perjured before the face of all Europe, and our great financial interest in Russia would at once be placed in a perilous position." A telephone upon the table rang softly. Monsieur Grisson held the receiver to his ear and listened. Then he rose to his feet. "Count von Munchen desires a word with me," he announced. "He pledges himself not to keep me more than five minutes.
A small brougham, which he recognized, stood outside. "If one could see inside," he muttered. "It should be interesting!" In a sense it was interesting. Monsieur Grisson sat there in front of his open table. His secretary's place by his side was vacant. Opposite sat a tall man with gray hair and dark moustache. He was dressed for the evening, and his breast glittered with stars and orders.
"You are right, gentlemen," Monsieur Grisson said with a sigh. "We must tell Lord Fothergill that our relations with his country must remain unfettered. Again the telephone bell rang. Monsieur Grisson listened, and replied with a sudden return to his old briskness of manner. "It is young De Bergillac," he announced. "He has been in England in search of that missing page of the treaty.
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