So I went straight to the point and told Clubfoot that I was beaten, that he should have his paper.  But there were difficulties about the execution of both sides of the bargain.  We had deceived one another.  What mutual guarantees could we exchange that would give each of us the assurance of fair play?

Clubfoot settled this point in characteristic fashion.  He protested his good faith elaborately, but the gist of his remarks was that he held the cards and that, consequently, it was he who must be trusted, whilst I furnished the guarantee.

Whilst we were discussing this point the clock chimed the half-hour.

I switched the conversation to Monica.  I was not at all concerned about myself, I said, but I must feel sure in my mind that no ill should befall her.  To this Clubfoot replied that I might set my mind at ease:  the moment the document was in his hands he would give orders for her release:  I should be there and might see it done myself.

What guarantee was there, I asked, that she would not be detained before she reached the frontier?

Clubfoot was getting a little restless.  With his eye on the clock but in a placid voice he again protested that his word was the sole guarantee he could offer.

We discussed this too.  My manner was earnest and nervous, I know, and I think he enjoyed playing with me.  I told him frankly that his reputation belied his protestations of good faith.  At this he laughed and cynically admitted that this was quite possibly the case.

“Nevertheless, it is I who give the guarantee,” he said in a tone that brooked no contradiction.

The clock struck eleven.

One hour to go!

“Come, Okewood,” he added good-naturedly, “we waste time.  Up to this you’ve had all the sport, you know.  You wouldn’t have me miss the first day’s shooting I’ve had this year.  Where have you got this letter of ours?”

He was an extraordinary man.  To hear him address me, you would never have supposed that he was sending me to my death.  He appeared to have forgotten this detail.  It meant so little to him that he probably had.

I turned to my third point.  He made things very hard for me, I said, but I was the vanquished and must give way.  The trouble was that the document was still in two portions and neither half was here.

“You indicate where the halves are hidden,” said Clubfoot promptly.  “I will accompany you to the hiding-places and you will hand them to me.”

“But they are nowhere near here,” I replied.

“Then where are they?” answered Clubfoot impatiently.  “Come, I am waiting and it’s getting late!”

“It will take several days to recover both portions,” I muttered unwillingly.

“That does not matter,” retorted the other; “there is no particular hurry ... now!”

And he smiled grimly.

I dared not raise my eyes to the clock, for I felt the German’s gaze on me.  An intuitive instinct told me that his suspicions had been awakened by my reluctance.  I was very nearly at the end of my resources.