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Witherbee's warning did no more than make Simpson angry; he attributed it to wrong motives to jealousy perhaps to hostility certainly, and neither jealousy nor hostility could speak true words.
"Here he is now!" Bunsen exclaimed as Simpson approached. "I was just getting anxious about you. Stopped at the hotel you hadn't been there, they said. Port au Prince is a bad place to get lost in. Oh this gentleman is our consul. Mr. Witherbee Mr. Simpson." Simpson shook hands. Witherbee's face was just a pair of dull eyes behind a ragged moustache, but there was unusual vigour in his grip.
"Godspeed to you in that" Witherbee's voice was ironical. "But remember what I tell you. The Picard woman is subtle, and Michaud is subtle." Simpson had crossed the threshold, and only half heard the consul's next remark. "Voodoo is more subtle than both of them together. Look out for it."
Simpson wanted to be angry at the consul why he could not tell but Witherbee's voice was so carefully courteous that he yielded perforce to its persuasion and swung around, facing him. Suddenly, because he was measuring himself against man and not against Nature, his weakness left him, and confidence in himself and his mission flooded back upon him. "As much as I could get from books." He paused.
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