The forehead alone was good, and showed reasoning and
intellect. He was about fifty, and like all fair men looked less than
his age. He was better dressed, and altogether more careful of his
appearance than most of the other men, though he spent nothing on
luxuries and never touched the _absinthe_, to which most of them were
addicted. The sole luxuries in which he indulged were Work and Power.
"Probably you have heard a great deal of talk about spies lately," he
began, addressing Arithelli in French. "For some time I have suspected
one of our own number of treachery. However, one cannot condemn
without proofs. For these I have been waiting and they have now come
into my hands. I'm perfectly satisfied that the man I have all along
suspected is a traitor, and there is no need to delay action any
longer. I suppose Poleski has informed you of how we treat those who
are unwise enough to betray us?"
"Yes."
She was on her guard now, and stood upright, all her languor gone. Why
could he not say what he meant at once? She wondered why he had taken
the trouble to seek for proofs of anyone's guilt.
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