I am a very sensitive person, and sitting there quietly I
became aware that I was being scrutinised with more than ordinary
intensity by someone, which gave me a feeling of uneasiness. At last,
in the semi-obscurity opposite me I saw a pair of eyes as luminous as
those of a tiger peering fixedly at me. I returned the stare with such
composure as I could bring to my aid, and the man, as if fascinated by
a look as steady as his own, leaned forward, and came more and more
into the circle of light.
Then I received a shock which it required my utmost self-control to
conceal. The face, haggard and drawn, was none other than that of
Adolph Simard, who had been my second assistant in the Secret Service
of France during my last year in office. He was a most capable and
rising young man at that time, and, of course, he knew me well. Had
he, then, penetrated my disguise? Such an event seemed impossible; he
could not have recognised my voice, for I had said nothing aloud
since entering the room, my few words to the president being spoken in
a whisper. Simard's presence there bewildered me; by this time he
should be high up in the Secret Service. If he were now a spy, he
would, of course, wish to familiarise himself with every particular of
my appearance, as in my hands lay the escape of the criminal.
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