“Mr. Macalister,” O’Shea resumed blandly--and now I noted that he wore his monocle--“is not personally responsible for his defects of education. Forgive him, Decies. The facts, briefly, are these: You may recall that I recently placed in your care a certain portfolio, the contents of which you know?” “You did,” said I. “My reason,” O’Shea continued, “was that I feared an attempt by Mr. Macalister or his friends to recover this portfolio. I mentioned my fears to you at the time.” “You did,” I repeated. “Mr. Macalister,” O’Shea turned to him, “Mr. Decies, here, has the portfolio and a new key which I have had made. The portfolio is locked. I don’t know what he has done with it. Therefore your proposals are useless.” Macalister rolled the cigar stump. With a thumb and forefinger he removed fragments from his mouth--of what, I cannot say; possibly the band. Then: “I believe you,” he granted. “I never doubted your word. You’re damned up-stage but you don’t lie.” “Thank you,” said O’Shea. The tone in which he spoke puzzled me at the time. It was so oddly sincere. “But, you see,” Macalister went on, “I know why you’ve done it!” O’Shea did not exactly start. But his glance, as Macalister spoke, was dagger-like in its intensity. “You’re an officer and a gentleman. The two aren’t always twins, but you happen to be both. I’ve got to deal with Mr. Decies? If he lets you down, the disgrace is his. You’re just branded a fool, but you save your ‘British honour.’ Am I right?” By heavens! I knew he was right! And, studying the low brow, the small, Semitic skull, the gross person of the man, I wondered. If a Julian Macalister could read human nature so clearly, small wonder that the cream of his race ruled the Rialtos of the world. So I reflected. “Very well, Mr. Decies.” He diverted the cigar stump in my direction. “As it’s turned out, I’m not sorry. You’re sweet on the little lady who’s disappeared. I don’t blame you. I fancy her, myself. But business is business.” Only O’Shea’s frigid stare held me in my place. I plunged my hands in my trouser pockets and clenched them tightly. “Do not permit Mr. Macalister’s vulgarity to upset your judgment,” said O’Shea. “Also, make due allowances for him.” “I don’t say I know where she is,” Macalister resumed unmoved, “but I’m prepared to promise that she’ll be home by midnight if you, Mr. Decies, will double on the major and hand over to me that portfolio!” “One moment!” O’Shea broke in so violently that he startled me. “Well?” said Macalister. “You fully appreciate the value of what the portfolio contains?” O’Shea challenged. “Fully,” I answered. “You know what is at stake--on both sides?” “I do.” “So do I. Therefore I am going to leave you alone with Mr. Macalister. Make your terms, Decies. I shall never reproach you. Communism is a powerful movement. To-night it conquers.” He walked quickly to the door and went out.