The man who had called himself Guillot was transformed.

The dreams which had uplifted him a few minutes ago, had passed.

He was living very much in the present--an ugly and foreboding present.

The veins stood out upon his forehead and upon the back of his hands, his teeth gleamed underneath his coarse, white moustache.

Then he recovered himself.
"There is some mistake," he said, "but I will come." In silence they left the hotel and drove to the Embassy, in silence the young man ushered his charge into the large, pleasant apartment on the ground floor of the Embassy, where the ambassador was giving instructions to two of his secretaries.