"And possibly," went on the remorseless voice, "you can explain
the significance of that term?"
Nicol Brinn remained silent--but with one foot he was slowly
tapping the edge of the fender.
"Mr. Harley," he began, abruptly, "you have been perfectly frank
with me and in return I wish to be as frank with you as I can be.
I am face to face with a thing that has haunted me for seven
years, and every step I take from now onward has to be considered
carefully, for any step might be my last. And that's not the
worst of the matter. I will risk one of those steps here and now.
You ask me to explain the significance of Fire-Tongue" (there was
a perceptible pause before he pronounced the word, which Harley
duly noticed). "I am going to tell you that Sir Charles Abingdon,
when I lunched with him at his club, asked me precisely the same
thing."
"What! He asked you that so long as two weeks ago?"
"He did."
"And what reason did he give for his inquiry?"
Nicol Brinn began to tap the fender again with his foot. "Let me
think," he replied. "I recognize that you must regard my
reticence as peculiar, Mr. Harley, but if ever a man had reason
to look before he leaped, I am that man."
Silence fell again, and Paul Harley, staring down at Nicol Brinn,
realized that this indeed was the most hopelessly mystifying case
which fate had ever thrown in his way. This millionaire scholar
and traveller, whose figure was as familiar in remote cities of
the world as it was familiar in New York, in Paris, and in
London, could not conceivably be associated with any criminal
organization.
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