your card—your Wilhelmstrasse number," Woodhouse demanded.
"I carry no card. I am more discreet than—some," the other answered insinuatingly.
"No card? Your number, then?"
Jaimihr Khan brought his lips close to the white man's ear and whispered a number.
"Is that not correct?" he asked.
Woodhouse nodded curtly.
"And now that we are properly introduced," Jaimihr began, with a sardonic smile, "may I venture a criticism? Your pardon, Cap-tain; but our critics, they help us to per-fection. Since when have men who come from the Wilhelmstrasse allowed themselves to make love in drawing-rooms?"
"You mean"
"You and the young woman from America—when I found you together here yesterday"
"That is my affair," was Woodhouse's hot response.
"The affair on which we work—this night—that is my affair, be veree sure!" There was something of menace in the Indian's tone.
Woodhouse bowed to his demand for an ex-
