"There is very little business that is honest," he said; "practically none at all. Look at politics, the Church, art, the sciences--those who flourish are the imposters, while your honest men are foolish enough to starve in garrets. If a man will undertake nothing that is open to the suspicion of self-interest, he should abandon all his affairs at once and retire to a monastery, where possibly he will discover that the prior is cheating the abbot and the cellarer cheating them both. You have a great business opportunity, and if anybody suffers it is only the Government, which you must admit is a pure abstraction--suggesting chiefly a company of undiscovered rascals. The deal which I have to propose to you concerns a sum of half a million sterling, and that is not to be passed by lightly. I suggest, therefore, that at least you read the documents I have brought with me, and that we leave the matter of honesty to be discussed by the lawyers." He laid upon the table a bundle of papers as he spoke, and lighted a cigarette by lightly rubbing a match against the tip of the fourth finger of his left hand. Ambrose felt strangely uneasy. A most uncanny suspicion had come upon him while the man was speaking. He felt that no ordinary human being faced him, and that he might in very truth be talking with the devil. Nor would this idea quit him despite its apparent absurdity. "You must have great influence, Count," he remarked presently--"great influence to get such a valuable commission as this!" The Count was flattered. "I have servants in every country," he said; "the rich are always my friends--the poor often come to me because they are not rich. Few who know me can do without me; indeed, I may say that but for such men as I am the world would not go on. I am the mainspring of its endeavour." "And yet when I met you it was on the links above La Turbie." The count laughed, showing his glittering teeth as any carnivorous animal might have done. "Ah, I remember. You met me when I was playing golf with a very saintly lady. Latterly, I hear, she has ceased to go to church and taken to bobbed hair. Women are strange creatures, Mr. Cleaver, but difficult, very difficult sometimes. I have had many disappointments with women." "You find men easier?" "Indeed, there are few men who are not willing to go to the devil if the consideration be large enough. A woman, on the other hand, is too often the victim of her emotions. She will suffer eternal torment for the man she loves, and she will cheat for him. But for the rest of us--nothing, positively nothing at all; she is neither honest nor dishonest, she merely passes us by." "Ah," exclaimed Ambrose, a little wearily, "I wish I could think that about my _fiancee_. She's just been up--that's why you find me upset. I bought her opals, and, of course, she wants diamonds. You see, I forgot she wasn't born in October." The Count nodded his head in sympathy.