you in the eye so hard when you walk about the streets. To get
friendly with your kind. I suppose that assistant of yours can be
trusted to look after things?"

"There's the half-caste too. The Portuguese. He knows what's to
be done."

"Aha!" The Editor looked sharply at his friend. "What's his
name?"

"Who's name?"

"The assistant's you picked up on the sly behind my back."

Renouard made a slight movement of impatience.

"I met him unexpectedly one evening. I thought he would do as well
as another. He had come from up country and didn't seem happy in a
town. He told me his name was Walter. I did not ask him for
proofs, you know."

"I don't think you get on very well with him."

"Why? What makes you think so."

"I don't know. Something reluctant in your manner when he's in
question."

"Really. My manner! I don't think he's a great subject for
conversation, perhaps. Why not drop him?"