He had dined and so we had cigars served to us in that cozy corner
where, with a table which held a box of them, together with some liquid
refreshments and other conveniences, we settled ourselves for an
uninterrupted chat.
"It is good to see you, old chap," he told me in his frank and hearty
way; "good to be with you again; to feel the clasp of your hand and to
hear your hearty laugh. I have been thinking about you considerably of
late, and this morning when I found that my wandering life had dropped
me down in your city, I determined to look you up at once. In my
baggage I found your card which contained this club address; and here I
am." His big, hearty, infectious laugh rang through the room.
There was no need to tell him of my own delight in his presence. My
manner of greeting him had demonstrated that without any question of
doubt. Presently he asked me: "What is your particular avocation just now, Derrington? Are you still
at the old game?"
"Still at the old game," I replied, nodding my head solemnly. "I
suppose I will always be at it in one way or another."
"Your government won't let you go very far away from its reach," he
said, with a quizzical smile.
"Oh, the government! I have cut it, Alexis."
"What? Left the service?"
"Temporarily," I replied, and he laughed again as loudly as before.
There was reason for his levity, because placing my resignation in the
hands of the secretary had become a habit with me. I was periodically
depressed by the duties of a secret service agent and as often
determined to leave the service for good. But as often, I had returned
to it upon the request of one department or another of my government,
when my services were required in the line of some particular duty
which officialdom was pleased to assure me could not be so well
accomplished by any other person of its acquaintance. That was why
Alexis Saberevski laughed.
"Is your resignation still on file? Or is it only lying on the table
awaiting action, Daniel?" he asked me, and there was just a touch of
ironic suggestion in his manner, which nettled me.
"The resignation is a fact this time," I replied. "I have earned a
period of rest, and I propose to take it."
"Going abroad, Derrington?"
"No."
"Prefer to undergo the process of dry rot, here in New York?"
"Yes; for a time at least."
"Is there nothing on the other side of the water, that attracts you?"
"Nothing at all."
He switched his right leg to his left knee and blew a cloud of smoke
into the air.
"You're not a lazy chap, Dan," he remarked, as if he were deeply
considering the verity of that statement. "One wouldn't pick you out as
a blasé individual who is tired of everything the world has to offer.
You are as filled with energy and nervous force as any chap I ever
knew; and you are not yet thirty-five."