I was going to do something.

After a time I found de Mersch and Gurnard standing facing each other in one of the doorways of the place--Gurnard, a small, dark, impassive column; de Mersch, bulky, overwhelming, florid, standing with his legs well apart and speaking vociferously with a good deal of gesture.

I approached them from the side, standing rather insistently at his elbow.
"I want," I said, "I would be extremely glad if you would give me a minute, monsieur." I was conscious that I spoke with a tremour of the voice, a sort of throaty eagerness.

I was unaware of what course I was to pursue, but I was confident of calmness, of self-control--I was equal to that.

They had a pause of surprised silence.