Nikasti bowed, and the young man disappeared into the inner room. His new attendant waited until the door was closed. Then he removed the receiver from its hook, laid it upon the table, and moved stealthily towards the open fireplace. For several moments he remained in an attitude of listening, then with quick, lithe fingers he drew from his pocket a cable dispatch, reread it with an air of complete absorption, and committed it to the flames. He watched it burn, and turned away from the contemplation of its grey ashes with a sigh of content. Suddenly he started. The door of the sitting-room had been opened and closed. A tall, broad-shouldered man, wearing gold-rimmed spectacles, a long travelling coat and a Homburg hat, was standing watching him. Nikasti was only momentarily disturbed. His look of gentle inquiry was perfect.

"You wish to see my master--Mr. Van Teyl?" he asked.

"Where is he?" Fischer demanded.

"He is dressing in the next apartment. I will take him your name."

Fischer threw his coat and hat upon the table.

"That'll do directly," he replied. "So you're Nikasti?"

They looked at one another for a moment. The face of the Japanese was smooth, bland, and imperturbable. His eyes were innocent even of any question. Fischer's forehead was wrinkled, and his brows drawn close together.

"I am Nikasti," the other acknowledged--"Kato Nikasti. Mr. Van Teyl has just engaged me as his valet."

"You can take off the gloves," Fischer told him. "I am Oscar Fischer."

"Oscar Fischer," Nikasti repeated.

"Yes! ... Burning something when I came in weren't you? Looked like a cable, eh?"

"A dispatch from London," Nikasti confided.

"Nothing that would interest me, eh?"

"It was a family message," was the calm response. "It did not concern the affair which is between us."

"How came you to speak English like this?" Fischer inquired.

"I was at Oxford University for two years," Nikasti told him, "and in the Embassy at London for five more."

"Before you took up your present job, eh?"

Nikasti assented silently. Fischer glanced around as though to make sure that they were still alone.

"I have the communication with me," he announced, "which we are to discuss. The terms of our proposal are clearly set out, and they are signed by the Highest of all himself. The letter embodying them was handed to me three weeks ago to-day in Berlin. Have you been to Washington?"

Nikasti shook his head.

"I do not go to Washington," he said. "You will understand that diplomatically, as you would put it, I do not exist. Neither is it necessary. I am here to listen."

Fischer nodded.

"There need be very little delay, then," he observed, "before we get to work."

Nikasti bowed and raised his forefinger in warning.

"I think," he whispered, "that Mr. Van Teyl has finished dressing."

The Pawns Count by Oppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips), 1866-1946

CHAPTER X