The next moment he found himself in the principal reception-room of the suite, face to face with a frail old man of unpleasant appearance, who, Forsyth noticed with quick intuition, was reclining on a couch that had been drawn across a closed door. There was another—open—door leading into the bedroom, but the closed one must be the same which from the other side of it had confirmed the General’s suspicions of the occupant of the adjoining suite. Forsyth could picture to himself Mrs. Talmage Eglinton’s shell-like ear glued to that door, its fair owner prepared to tap gentle signals by the Morse code on the panels if things did not go to her liking in the audience-chamber. His conjectures were brought down to the bed-rock of fact by the croaking voice of the invalid on the couch. Mr. Ziegler’s repulsive aspect, his purple cheeks, and green-shaded eyes suggested some horrible cutaneous affection, though Forsyth was not so ingenuous as to accept the disfigurements as genuine. "I am sorry to have detained you, sir," Ziegler began, and then paused abruptly. Forsyth wondered if he had been brought up with a round turn by a tap on the door close to his ear. There seemed something tentative, as though the speaker were trying his ground, in that first disjointed utterance. "It does not matter," Forsyth replied, and then in his turn came to a sudden stop. His diplomatic training at the Foreign Office had taught him the advantage of allowing the other side to open the proceedings. He who has the first word is seldom the one to have the last. But it appeared that Mr. Ziegler was also alive to the value of reserving his fire. "I presume that the Duke of Beaumanoir instructed you on the nature of the business you were to transact with me?" he said, and there was a firmer ring in the curious metallic voice than when he made his first brief apology. "On the contrary, he left me quite in the dark about it," Forsyth made answer. "All I understood was that I was to fetch something which you would hand me in person." Ziegler took a leisurely survey of the young Scotsman through his green glasses. "Then you did not come here expecting to have to use your own discretion in any way—to traffic with me, in fact?" he presently asked. "Certainly not," Forsyth replied. "I gathered that the part I was to play was solely that of a trusted messenger who could be relied on to say nothing about his errand afterwards." "Not even to General Sadgrove?" flashed back the answering question so swiftly that for an instant Forsyth was taken aback. "I am not one to betray my employer’s secrets—even to my uncle, General Sadgrove," he said, recovering himself quickly. "Very good!" was the croaking comment. "I deemed it necessary to sound you because we are aware of the foolish meddling—I might also say muddling—of that mischievous old man. We know also that you have aided and abetted him in an attempt to swim against a tide that is far too strong for both of you."