That same day a key to fit the lock was being made;
and when it was ready, I made an excuse to call again on Raoul at the
office. Not that a very elaborate excuse was needed. The poor fellow,
trusting me as he trusts himself, or more, was only too glad to have me
come to him, even in that sacred place. Now, the thing was to get him
away. But I'd made up my mind what to do. In another office, upstairs,
was a friend of Raoul's--the one who introduced us to each other, and
I'd made up a message for him, which I begged Raoul to take, and bring
his friend to speak to me. He went, and I believed I might count on five
minutes to myself. No more--but those five minutes would have to be
enough for success or failure. The instant the door shut behind Raoul, I
was at the safe. The key fitted. I snatched out a folded document, and
opened it to make quite, quite certain it was the right one, for a
mistake would be inexcusable and spoil everything. It was what I
wanted--the treaty, newly made, between Japan, Russia and France--the
treaty which your Foreign Secretary thought he had reason to believe was
a secret one, arranged between the three countries without the knowledge
of England and to the prejudice of her interests.
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