"That is, by me and one person over whom I have such an influence that he will use his knowledge, or--forget it, according to my advice." "There is no such person," I said to myself.

But I didn't say it aloud.
Quickly I named over in my mind such men in the French Foreign Office as were in a position to discover the disappearance of any document under Raoul du Laurier's charge.

There were several who might have done so, some above Raoul in authority, some below; but I was certain that not one of them was an intimate friend of Count Godensky's.

If he had suspected anything the day he met me coming out of the Foreign Office he might, of course, have hinted his suspicions to one of those men (though all along I'd believed him too shrewd to risk the consequences, the ridicule and humiliation of a mistake): but if he had spoken, it would be beyond his power to prevent matters from taking their own course, independent of my decisions and his actions.
I believed now that what I had hoped was true.

He was "bluffing." He wanted me to flounder into some admission, and to make him a promise in order to save the man I loved.