"Perhaps you are right--things are usually balanced in some such way. We all have our enemies," he added. "I have read somewhere that the fewer the personal foes, the weaker the man. And since we must have them in order to prove our personality," with a laugh which sounded peculiarly unnatural, "why, we can consider ourselves fortunate if they but stand out where we can see them."
"Your businesslike enemy seldom fights in the open," commented Ashton-Kirk with the air of a man merely making talk. "Our American politicians could teach you that fact."
"The ambuscade is effective," he agreed. "I learned its use in the Russo-Japanese war."
"So!" The secret agent's brows went up. "You served in that war then? What regiment?"
"It is peculiar how things come about," smiled Ashton-Kirk. "While waiting for Warwick I noticed that the house in your rear is occupied by Japanese. Rather close quarters for old opponents, is it not?"
"The Japanese," spoke Dr. Morse, "were the opponents of Russia."
"I see. You are on good terms with your neighbors, then?"
"No. They have been there almost as long as I have been here; but I have never spoken to one of them."
Just then there came a tap upon the door; the old servant woman entered, but at the sight of those present, she halted.
"I beg your pardon, Simon," she said to Morse. "I did not know you were engaged."
"Well, Nanon," said he, "what is it now? Out again? There is no service at your church to-night."
There was a jeer in his voice, but the old French woman paid no attention to it. That she addressed him by his first name indicated that she felt no sense of inferiority. Indeed, as Ashton-Kirk regarded her, he detected a look of contempt upon her severe face.
"No," she answered, "there is no service to-night, as you know very well. I came to speak of Drevenoff."
A peculiar look came into the eyes of the secret agent; it was as though he were groping about for something hidden away in his memory; then like a flash, recollection seemed to come.
"He is no better. Even now while he clips the hedges, he shakes with cold; again he burns."
The physician gestured impatiently. Arising he went to a small cabinet and took out a jar partly filled with whitish pills. While he was so engaged, Warwick whispered to Ashton-Kirk.