But he was smiling and altogether at ease.

He had made up his mind, and he saw his best policy quite plain in front of him like a white road.

His best chance was to make a softened and ambiguous speech, such as would leave on the detective's mind the impression that the anarchist brotherhood was a very mild affair after all.

He believed in his own literary power, his capacity for suggesting fine shades and picking perfect words.

He thought that with care he could succeed, in spite of all the people around him, in conveying an impression of the institution, subtly and delicately false.