But there were beads of perspiration on the major's brow.
"It is fortunate," he muttered breathlessly, "that my back was towards him.

I would as soon meet the devil face to face.

I didn't dream he was in Lisbon." "Who is he ?" asked Minas.
"Colonel Grant, the British Intelligence officer.

Phew! Name of a Name! What an escape!" The major mopped his brow with a silk handkerchief.
"Beware of him, Monsieur de Samoval." He rose.

He was obviously shaken by the meeting.
"If one of you will kindly make quite sure that he is not about I think that I had better go.