Mr. Brand merely bowed:  he was intent on making out what manner of man this suspected foreigner might be; and he was puzzled.  At first sight Ferdinand Lind appeared to be about fifty or fifty-five years of age; his closely cropped hair was gray; and his face, in repose, somewhat care-worn.  But then when he spoke there was an almost youthful vivacity in his look; his dark eyes were keen, quick, sympathetic; and there was even a certain careless ease about his dress—­about the turned-down collar and French-looking neck-tie, for example—­that had more of the air of the student than of the pedant about it.  All this at the first glance.  It was only afterward you came to perceive what was denoted by those heavy, seamed brows, the firm, strong mouth, and the square line of the jaw.  These told you of the presence of an indomitable and inflexible will.  Here was a man born to think, and control, and command.

“With that prospect before me,” he continued, apparently taking no notice of the Englishman’s close scrutiny, “I must ask you, Mr. Brand—­well, you know, it is merely a matter of form—­but I must ask you to be so very kind as to give me your word of honor that you will not disclose anything you may see or learn here.  Have you any objection?”

Brand stared, then said, coldly,

“Oh dear, no.  I will give you that pledge, if you wish it.”

“It is so easy to deal with Englishmen,” said Mr. Lind, politely.  “A word, and it is done.  But I suppose Lord Evelyn has told you that we have no very desperate secrets.  Secrecy, you know, one must use sometimes; it is an inducement to many—­most people are fond of a little mystery; and it is harmless.”

Brand said nothing; Lord Evelyn thought he might have been at least civil.  But when an Englishman is determined on being stiff, his stiffness is gigantic.

“If I were to show you some of the tricks of this very room,” said this grizzled old foreigner with the boyish neck-tie, “you might call me a charlatan; but would that be fair?  We have to make use of various means for what we consider a good end, a noble end; and there are many people who love mystery and secrecy.  With you English it is different—­you must have everything above-board.”

The pale, fine face of the sensitive lad sitting there became clouded over with disappointment.  He had brought this old friend of his with some vague hope that he might become a convert, or at least be sufficiently interested to make inquiries; but Brand sat silent, with a cold indifference that was only the outward sign of an inward suspicion.

“Sometimes, it is true,” continued Mr. Lind, in nowise disconcerted, “we stumble on the secrets of others.  Our association has innumerable feelers:  and we make it our business to know what we can of everything that is going on.  For example, I could tell you of an odd little incident that occurred last year in Constantinople.  A party of four gentlemen were playing cards there in a private room.”