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Whether he noticed that I had detected it or not, I cannot say, but he moved his hand quickly, and ever after kept it closed. His name, he told me, was Konstantinos Vassos, and he lived in Athens. But I took that information cum grano, for I instinctively knew him to be a prince traveling incognito. Before the passport officer at Semlin, every one must pass before entering Serbia.
He, of course, gave his name as Vassos, and to all intents and purposes was more of a stranger in the Bulgarian capital than I myself was, for I had been there previously once just before the war. Now Rayne had given me a letter of introduction to a certain Nicolas Titeroff, who contrived rather mysteriously to get me elected to the smart diplomats' club the Union during my stay. The days passed.
Vassos, who was still at the hotel, annoyed me on account of his extreme politeness, and the manner in which he appeared to spy upon my movements. I came across him everywhere. Inquiries concerning the reason of the ugly Greek's presence in Bulgaria met with a negative result. One thing seemed certain, he was not, as I believed, a prince incognito.
I gazed at the morning sunshine upon the wall, and tried to recollect what had occurred. My hand seemed strangely painful. Raising it from the sheets, I looked at it. Upon my right palm, branded as by a hot iron, was the sign of the dog's pad! Horrified, I stared at it! It was the same mark I had seen upon the hand of old Vassos! What could be its significance?
For a long time I sat with His Excellency, and then he rose, inviting me to walk with him in the Boris Gardens, as was his habit every afternoon, before going down to the sitting of the Sobranje, or Parliament. On our way we passed Vassos, who raised his hat politely to me. "Who's that man?" inquired the Minister quickly, and I told him all I knew concerning the old fellow. He grunted.
Quite unconsciously I had, it seemed, become an especial favorite of the silent, watchful old Konstantinos Vassos. Fearing lest I, in my innocence, should fall a victim with His Excellency being so often his companion he had, with the assistance of the pretty Marie Balesco, contrived to impress upon my palm the secret sign of the conspirators.
Then we had a couple of fox-trots, and I conducted her out to the car that was awaiting her and bowing, watched her drive off, alone. But while doing so, there came along the pavement, out of the shadow, the short, ugly figure of the old Greek, Vassos, with his coat collar turned up, evidently passing without noticing me.
Nevertheless, I was obsessed by the strange mark which had been so mysteriously placed upon my hand the same mark as that borne by the mysterious Vassos. "You may send a cipher dispatch to London if you like, Mr. Hargreave," said the Minister Petkoff, as we sat over our cigars. "The documents will be all signed at the Cabinet meeting at noon to-morrow.
"Just describe the man Vassos as fully as you can," urged Rayne. In consequence I went into a minute description of the fussy old Greek, to which Rayne listened most interestedly. "Yes," he said at last. "But tell me one thing. Did you notice if he had any deformity?" "Well he walked with a distinct limp." "And his hand?" "The little finger on his left hand was deformed," I replied.
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