Vanderlyn reddened. He glanced over the odd-looking document with eager, curious eyes. A few words here and there were printed, but the rest of the _dossier_ was written in the round copying character which must be mastered by every French Government clerk hoping for promotion. First came the American diplomatist's Christian name and surname, his place of birth, his probable age--right within two years,--a short epitome of his diplomatic career, a guess at his income, this item considerably under the right figure, and evidently based on his quiet way of living. Then, under a printed heading "General Remarks," were written a few phrases in a handwriting very different from the rest--that is, in the small clear caligraphy of an educated Frenchman. Staring down at these, Vanderlyn felt shaken with anger and disgust, for these "General Remarks" concerned that part of his private life which every man believes to be hidden from his fellows:-- "Peu d'intimites d'hommes. Pas de femmes: par contre, une amitie amoureuse tres suivie avec Madame (Marguerite) Pargeter. Voir dossier Pargeter (Thomas)." Amitie amoureuse? Friendship akin to love? The English language, so rich in synonyms, owns no exact equivalent for this French phrase, expressive though it be of a phase of human emotion as old as human nature itself. Vanderlyn looked up. His eyes met squarely those of the other man. "Your staff," he said, very quietly, "have served you well, Monsieur; my _dossier_ is, on the whole, extraordinarily correct. There is but one word which I would have altered, and which, indeed, I venture to beg you to correct without loss of time. The young man--he is evidently a young man--who wrote the summary to which you have drawn my attention, must have literary tastes, otherwise there is one word in this document which would not be there." Vanderlyn put his finger down firmly on the word "amoureuse." "My relations with Mrs. Pargeter were, it is true, those of close friendship, but I must ask you to accept my assurance, Monsieur le Prefet, that they were not what the writer of this passage evidently believed them to have been." "I will make a note of the correction," said the Prefect, gravely, "and I must offer you my very sincere excuses for having troubled you to-night." As Vanderlyn's late visitor drove home that night, he said to himself, indeed he said aloud to the walls of the shabby little carriage which had heard so many important secrets, "He knows whatever there is to be known--but, then, what is it that is to be known? Of what mystery am I now seeking the solution?" IX.