But now, when I look back upon that extraordinary breakfast-party, it seems to me that it was nothing but a miracle altogether--or rather, perhaps, an infinite series of miracles. Imagine, if you can, a long and brilliant monologue, punctuated by staccato translations into modern Greek and consequent bursts of silvery feminine laughter. Imagine me sitting there making a few interjectory remarks from time to time, and Terry sitting there making no remarks at all, and the waiters hovering round us and wondering (very possibly) why we hadn't made ourselves known to one another on the previous evening.... But the really marvellous thing was that Severn's improvisation wasn't only brilliant and witty; it was also very subtly and dangerously reassuring. More than once I caught myself wondering whether Terry and I hadn't made a thundering mistake. The man's whole attitude was so frank and disarming; he told us exactly how he had met Madame Danopoulos at Bukarest, and how her company had considerably relieved the tedium of the Pan-Balkan Conference, at which he had had the misfortune to be the representative of His Britannic Majesty. Madame had been on her way to Buda-Pesth, and he, after the Conference, had promised to visit some Embassy friends at Warsaw; so what more natural than that they should share together the dust and heat of a midsummer journey? It was sheer luck, he added, that he had seen us, for otherwise his departure for Warsaw that morning would have removed the happy opportunity.... Terry, as I have said, was speechless. Not till Severn rose from his chair did he utter a word, and then, very calmly and deliberately, he said: "I would like to speak to you, if you don't mind ... alone.... Can you spare a few minutes?" Severn seemed quite genuinely surprised. "Why, of course," he replied. "But why alone? Surely you don't mind Hilton----" "I want _you_ to be alone," said Terry. "But--surely--if Madame, who knows no English, will excuse us----" "No, no. It must be alone--if you don't mind. And not here." Severn glanced at him curiously and then answered after a pause: "As you wish, then. But my train is at ten, remember. Shall we say half-an-hour from now--in the lounge?" And so it was arranged. CHAPTER FIVE I I DID, after all, turn up at that interview with Severn. It wasn't my intention to take sides; I was prepared to mediate, to put the brake on where necessary--in short, to keep the whole discussion well under blood-heat. Perhaps I succeeded. Perhaps it was really a compliment to my impartiality when Severn exclaimed, about half-an-hour after we had begun: "Look here, Hilton, what _are_ you in this game--prosecuting counsel, defending counsel, judge, jury, hangman, or what?"