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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, A Maker of History, by E. Phillips Oppenheim
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: A Maker of History
+
+
+Author: E. Phillips Oppenheim
+
+
+
+Release Date: September 20, 2006  [eBook #19341]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MAKER OF HISTORY***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, Patricia A. Benoy, and the
+Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+(https://www.pgdp.net/)
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+
+
+
+
+
+A MAKER OF HISTORY
+
+by
+
+E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM
+
+Author of
+"The Kingdom of the Blind," "The Hillman,"
+"The Double Traitor," Etc.
+
+With Frontispiece
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "'Guard this for me,' she whispered." (page 148)
+_Frontispiece_]
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+A. L. Burt Company
+Publishers New York
+Published by arrangement with Little, Brown & Company
+Copyright, 1905, 1906,
+by Little, Brown, and Company.
+All rights reserved
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+   CHAPTER                                    PAGE
+
+          BOOK I
+
+       I. AN ACCIDENTAL SPY                      1
+
+      II. AT THE CAFE MONTMARTRE                11
+
+     III. A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE            18
+
+      IV. THE FALLING OF THE HANDKERCHIEF       26
+
+       V. LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT                   33
+
+      VI. THE VANISHING LADY                    40
+
+     VII. THE DECOY-HOUSE OF EUROPE             48
+
+    VIII. "DUNCOMBE'S HOLD-UP"                  55
+
+      IX. THE STORY OF A CALL                   64
+
+       X. SPENCER'S SURPRISE                    72
+
+      XI. A WORD OF WARNING                     80
+
+     XII. THE SHADOWING OF DUNCOMBE             87
+
+    XIII. "HER VOICE"                           93
+
+     XIV. LAUGHTER OF WOMEN                    101
+
+      XV. MISS FIELDING FROM AMERICA           107
+
+     XVI. MISS FIELDING ASKS A QUESTION        115
+
+    XVII. GEORGE DUNCOMBE'S LIE                121
+
+   XVIII. "WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE?"              129
+
+     XIX. A HILLSIDE ENCOUNTER                 137
+
+      XX. MR. FIELDING IN A NEW ROLE           143
+
+     XXI. A WOMAN'S CRY                        151
+
+    XXII. LORD RUNTON IS SUSPICIOUS            160
+
+   XXIII. HER FIRST KISS                       171
+
+    XXIV. THE EMPTY ROOM                       179
+
+
+          BOOK II
+
+       I. GUY POYNTON AGAIN                    185
+
+      II. AN OLD STORY                         192
+
+     III. A BODY FROM THE SEINE                200
+
+      IV. THE INSOLENCE OF MADAME LA MARQUISE  208
+
+       V. THE INTERVIEWING OF PHYLLIS          217
+
+      VI. THE BLUNDERING OF ANDREW             225
+
+     VII. SPENCER GETS HIS CHANCE              234
+
+    VIII. A POLITICAL INTERLUDE                243
+
+      IX. ARRESTED!                            251
+
+       X. THE CHECKMATING OF MONSIEUR LOUIS    259
+
+      XI. THE MAKING OF HISTORY                267
+
+     XII. AN OLD FRIEND                        276
+
+    XIII. A NEWSPAPER SENSATION                285
+
+     XIV. THE MAN WHO SAVED HIS COUNTRY        294
+
+      XV. A MERRY MEETING                      301
+
+
+
+
+A MAKER OF HISTORY
+
+
+BOOK I
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+AN ACCIDENTAL SPY
+
+
+The boy sat up and rubbed his eyes. He was stiff, footsore, and a little
+chilly. There was no man-servant arranging his bath and clothes, no
+pleasant smell of coffee--none of the small luxuries to which he was
+accustomed. On the contrary, he had slept all night upon a bed of
+bracken, with no other covering than the stiff pine needles from the
+tall black trees, whose rustling music had lulled him to sleep.
+
+He sat up, and remembered suddenly where he was and how he had come
+there. He yawned, and was on the point of struggling to his feet when he
+became aware of certain changed conditions in his surroundings. Some
+instinct, of simple curiosity perhaps, but of far-reaching effect, led
+him to crawl back into his hiding-place and watch.
+
+Last night, after many hours of painful walking, two things alone had
+impressed themselves upon his consciousness: the dark illimitable forest
+and the double line of rails, which with the absolute straightness of
+exact science had stretched behind and in front till the tree-tops in
+the far distance seemed to touch, and the rails themselves to vanish
+into the black heart of the close-growing pines. For miles he had
+limped along the painfully rough track without seeing the slightest sign
+of any break in the woods, or any human being. At last the desire for
+sleep had overtaken him. He was a hardy young Englishman, and a night
+out of doors in the middle of June under these odorous pines presented
+itself merely as a not disagreeable adventure. Five minutes after the
+idea had occurred to him he was asleep.
+
+And now in the gray morning he looked out upon a different scene.
+Scarcely a dozen yards from him stood a single travelling-coach of dark
+green, drawn by a heavy engine. At intervals of scarcely twenty paces up
+and down the line, as far as he could see, soldiers were stationed like
+sentries. They were looking sharply about in all directions, and he
+could even hear the footsteps of others crashing through the wood. From
+the train three or four men in long cloaks had already descended. They
+were standing in the track talking together.
+
+The young man behind the bracken felt himself in somewhat of a dilemma.
+There was a delightful smell of fresh coffee from the waiting coach, and
+there seemed to be not the slightest reason why he should not emerge
+from his hiding-place and claim the hospitality of these people. He was
+a quite harmless person, with proper credentials, and an adequate
+explanation of his presence there. On the other hand, the spirit of
+adventure natural to his years strongly prompted him to remain where he
+was and watch. He felt certain that something was going to happen.
+Besides, those soldiers had exactly the air of looking for somebody to
+shoot!
+
+Whilst he was hesitating, something did happen. There was a shrill
+whistle, a puff of white smoke in the distance, and another train
+approached from the opposite direction.
+
+It drew up within a few feet of the one which was already waiting.
+Almost immediately half a dozen men, who were already standing upon the
+platform of the car, descended. One of these approached rapidly, and
+saluted the central figure of those who had been talking together in the
+track. After a few moments' conversation these two, followed by one
+other man only who was carrying a writing portfolio, ascended the
+platform of the train which had arrived first and disappeared inside.
+
+The young man who was watching these proceedings yawned.
+
+"No duel, then!" he muttered to himself. "I've half a mind to go out."
+Then he caught sight of a particularly fierce-looking soldier with his
+finger already upon the trigger of his gun, and he decided to remain
+where he was.
+
+In about half an hour the two men reappeared on the platform of the car.
+Simultaneously the window of the carriage in which they had been sitting
+was opened, and the third man was visible, standing before a small table
+and arranging some papers. Suddenly he was called from outside. He
+thrust his hat upon the papers, and hastened to obey the summons.
+
+A little gust of breeze from the opening and closing of the door
+detached one of the sheets of paper from the restraining weight of the
+hat. It fluttered out of the window and lay for a moment upon the side
+of the track. No one noticed it, and in a second or two it fluttered
+underneath the clump of bracken behind which the young Englishman was
+hiding. He thrust out his hand and calmly secured it.
+
+In less than five minutes the place was deserted. Amidst many hasty
+farewells, wholly unintelligible to the watcher, the two groups of men
+separated and climbed into their respective trains. As soon as every one
+was out of sight the Englishman rose with a little grunt of satisfaction
+and stretched himself.
+
+He glanced first at the sheet of paper, and finding it written in German
+thrust it into his pocket. Then he commenced an anxious search for
+smoking materials, and eventually produced a pipe, a crumpled packet of
+tobacco, and two matches.
+
+"Thank Heaven!" he exclaimed, lighting up. "And now for a tramp."
+
+He plodded steadily along the track for an hour or more. All the time he
+was in the heart of the forest. Pheasants and rabbits and squirrels
+continually crossed in front of him. Once a train passed, and an excited
+guard shouted threats and warnings, to which he replied in fluent but
+ineffective English.
+
+"Johnnies seem to think I'm trespassing!" he remarked to himself in an
+aggrieved tone. "I can't help being on their beastly line!"
+
+Tall, smooth-faced, and fair, he walked with the long step and lightsome
+grace of the athletic young Englishman of his day. He was well dressed
+in tweed clothes, cut by a good tailor, a little creased by his night
+out of doors, but otherwise immaculate. He hummed a popular air to
+himself, and held his head high. If only he were not so hungry.
+
+Then he came to a station. It was little more than a few rows of planks,
+with a chalet at one end--but a very welcome sight confronted him. A
+little pile of luggage, with his initials, G. P., was on the end of the
+platform nearest to him.
+
+"That conductor was a sensible chap," he exclaimed. "Glad I tipped him.
+Hullo!"
+
+The station-master, in uniform, came hurrying out. The young Englishman
+took off his hat, and produced a phrase book from his pocket. He ignored
+the stream of words which the station-master, with many gesticulations,
+was already pouring out.
+
+"My luggage," he said firmly, laying one hand upon the pile, and waving
+the phrase book.
+
+The station-master acquiesced heartily. He waxed eloquent again, but the
+Englishman was busy with the phrase book.
+
+"Hungry! Hotel?" he attempted.
+
+The station-master pointed to where the smoke was curling upwards from a
+score or so of houses about half a mile distant. The Englishman was
+getting pleased with himself. Outside was a weird-looking carriage, and
+on the box seat, fast asleep, was a very fat man in a shiny hat,
+ornamented by a bunch of feathers. He pointed to the luggage, then to
+the cab, and finally to the village.
+
+"Luggage, hotel, carriage!" he suggested.
+
+The station-master beamed all over. With a shout, which must have
+reached the village, he awakened the sleeping man. In less than five
+minutes the Englishman and his luggage were stored away in the carriage.
+His ticket had been examined by the station-master, and smilingly
+accepted. There were more bows and salutes, and the carriage drove off.
+Mr. Guy Poynton leaned back amongst the mouldy leather upholstery, and
+smiled complacently.
+
+"Easiest thing in the world to get on in a foreign country with a phrase
+book and your wits," he remarked to himself. "Jove, I am hungry!"
+
+He drove into a village of half a dozen houses or so, which reminded him
+of the pictured abodes of Noah and his brethren. An astonished
+innkeeper, whose morning attire apparently consisted of trousers, shirt,
+and spectacles, ushered him into a bare room with a trestle table. Guy
+produced his phrase book.
+
+"Hungry!" he said vociferously. "Want to eat! Coffee!"
+
+The man appeared to understand, but in case there should have been any
+mistake Guy followed him into the kitchen. The driver, who had lost no
+time, was already there, with a long glass of beer before him. Guy
+produced a mark, laid it on the table, touched himself, the innkeeper,
+and the driver, and pointed to the beer. The innkeeper understood, and
+the beer was good.
+
+The driver, who had been of course ludicrously over-paid, settled down
+in his corner, and announced his intention of seeing through to the end
+this most extraordinary and Heaven-directed occurrence. The innkeeper
+and his wife busied themselves with the breakfast, and Guy made remarks
+every now and then from his phrase book, which were usually
+incomprehensible, except when they concerned a further supply of beer.
+With a brave acceptance of the courtesies of the country he had accepted
+a cigar from the driver, and was already contemplating the awful moment
+when he would have to light it. Just then an interruption came.
+
+It was something very official, but whether military or of the police
+Guy could not tell. It strode into the room with clanking of spurs, and
+the driver and innkeeper alike stood up in respect. It saluted Guy. Guy
+took off his hat. Then there came words, but Guy was busy with his
+phrase book.
+
+"I cannot a word of German speak!" he announced at last.
+
+A deadlock ensued. The innkeeper and the driver rushed into the breach.
+Conversation became furious. Guy took advantage of the moment to slip
+the cigar into his pocket, and to light a cigarette. Finally, the
+officer swung himself round, and departed abruptly.
+
+"Dolmetscher," the driver announced to him triumphantly.
+
+"Dolmetscher," the innkeeper repeated.
+
+Guy turned it up in his phrase book, and found that it meant
+interpreter. He devoted himself then to stimulating the preparations for
+breakfast.
+
+The meal was ready at last. There were eggs and ham and veal,
+dark-colored bread, and coffee, sufficient for about a dozen people. The
+driver constituted himself host, and Guy, with a shout of laughter, sat
+down where he was, and ate. In the midst of the meal the officer
+reappeared, ushering in a small wizened-faced individual of unmistakably
+English appearance. Guy turned round in his chair, and the newcomer
+touched his forelock.
+
+"Hullo!" Guy exclaimed. "You're English!"
+
+"Yes, sir!" the man answered. "Came over to train polo ponies for the
+Prince of Haepsburg. Not in any trouble, I hope, sir?"
+
+"Not I," Guy answered cheerily. "Don't mind my going on with my
+breakfast, do you? What's it all about? Who's the gentleman with the
+fireman's helmet on, and what's he worrying about?"
+
+"He is an officer of the police, sir, on special service," the man
+answered. "You have been reported for trespassing on the State railway
+this morning."
+
+"Trespassing be blowed!" Guy answered. "I've got my ticket for the
+frontier. We were blocked by signal about half a dozen miles off this
+place, and I got down to stretch my legs. I understood them to say that
+we could not go on for half an hour or so. They never tried to stop my
+getting down, and then off they went without any warning, and left me
+there."
+
+"I will translate to the officer, sir," the man said.
+
+"Right!" Guy declared. "Go ahead."
+
+There was a brisk colloquy between the two. Then the little man began
+again.
+
+"He says that your train passed here at midnight, and that you did not
+arrive until past six."
+
+"Quite right!" Guy admitted. "I went to sleep. I didn't know how far it
+was to the station, and I was dead tired."
+
+"The officer wishes to know whether many trains passed you in the
+night?"
+
+"Can't say," Guy answered. "I sleep very soundly, and I never opened my
+eyes after the first few minutes."
+
+"The officer wishes to know whether you saw anything unusual upon the
+line?" the little man asked.
+
+"Nothing at all," Guy answered coolly. "Bit inquisitive, isn't he?"
+
+The little man came closer to the table.
+
+"He wishes to see your passport, sir," he announced.
+
+Guy handed it to him, also a letter of credit and several other
+documents.
+
+"He wants to know why you were going to the frontier, sir!"
+
+"Sort of fancy to say that I'd been in Russia, that's all!" Guy
+answered. "You tell him I'm a perfectly harmless individual. Never been
+abroad before."
+
+The officer listened, and took notes in his pocketbook of the passport
+and letter of credit. Then he departed with a formal salute, and they
+heard his horse's hoofs ring upon the road outside as he galloped away.
+The little man came close up to the table.
+
+"You'll excuse me, sir," he said, "but you seem to have upset the
+officials very much by being upon the line last night. There have been
+some rumors going about--but perhaps you're best not to know that. May I
+give you a word of advice, sir?"
+
+"Let me give you one," Guy declared. "Try this beer!"
+
+"I thank you, sir," the man answered. "I will do so with pleasure. But
+if you are really an ordinary tourist, sir,--as I have no doubt you
+are,--let this man drive you to Streuen, and take the train for the
+Austrian frontier. You may save yourself a good deal of unpleasantness."
+
+"I'll do it!" Guy declared. "Vienna was the next place I was going to,
+anyhow. You tell the fellow where to take me, will you?"
+
+The man spoke rapidly to the driver.
+
+"I think that you will be followed, sir," he added, turning to Guy, "but
+very likely they won't interfere with you. The railway last night for
+twenty miles back was held up for State purposes. We none of us know
+why, and it doesn't do to be too curious over here, but they have an
+idea that you are either a journalist or a spy."
+
+"_Civis Britannicus sum!_" the boy answered, with a laugh.
+
+"It doesn't quite mean what it used to, sir," the man answered quietly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+AT THE CAFE MONTMARTRE
+
+
+Exactly a week later, at five minutes after midnight, Guy Poynton, in
+evening dress, entered the Cafe Montmartre, in Paris. He made his way
+through the heterogeneous little crowd of men and women who were
+drinking at the bar, past the scarlet-coated orchestra, into the inner
+room, where the tables were laid for supper. Monsieur Albert, satisfied
+with the appearance of his new client, led him at once to a small table,
+submitted the wine card, and summoned a waiter. With some difficulty, as
+his French was very little better than his German, he ordered supper,
+and then lighting a cigarette, leaned back against the wall and looked
+around to see if he could discover any English or Americans.
+
+The room was only moderately full, for the hour was a little early for
+this quarter of Paris. Nevertheless, he was quick to appreciate a
+certain spirit of Bohemianism which pleased him. Every one talked to his
+neighbor. An American from the further end of the room raised his glass
+and drank his health. A pretty fair-haired girl leaned over from her
+table and smiled at him.
+
+"Monsieur like talk with me, eh?"
+
+"English?" he asked.
+
+"No. De Wien!"
+
+He shook his head smilingly.
+
+"We shouldn't get on," he declared. "Can't speak the language."
+
+She raised her eyebrows with a protesting gesture, but he looked away
+and opened an illustrated paper by his side. He turned over the pages
+idly enough at first, but suddenly paused. He whistled softly to himself
+and stared at the two photographs which filled the sheet.
+
+"By Jove!" he said softly to himself.
+
+There was the rustling of skirts close to his table. An unmistakably
+English voice addressed him.
+
+"Is it anything very interesting? Do show me!"
+
+He looked up. Mademoiselle Flossie, pleased with his appearance, had
+paused on her way down the room.
+
+"Come and sit down, and I'll show it you!" he said, rising. "You're
+English, aren't you?"
+
+Mademoiselle Flossie waved a temporary adieu to her friends and accepted
+the invitation. He poured her out a glass of wine.
+
+"Stay and have supper with me," he begged. "I must be off soon, but I'm
+tired of being alone. This is my last night, thank goodness."
+
+"All right!" she answered gayly. "I must go back to my friends directly
+afterwards."
+
+"Order what you like," he begged. "I can't make these chaps understand
+me."
+
+She laughed, and called the waiter.
+
+"And now show me what you were looking at in that paper," she insisted.
+
+He pointed to the two photographs.
+
+"I saw those two together only a week ago," he said. "Want to hear about
+it?"
+
+She looked startled for a moment, and a little incredulous.
+
+"Yes, go on!" she said.
+
+He told her the story. She listened with an interest which surprised
+him. Once or twice when he looked up he fancied that the lady from
+Vienna was also doing her best to listen. When he had finished their
+supper had arrived.
+
+"I think," she said, as she helped herself to _hors d'oeuvre_, "that
+you were very fortunate to get away."
+
+He laughed carelessly.
+
+"The joke of it is," he said, "I've been followed all the way here. One
+fellow, who pretended he got in at Strasburg, was trying to talk to me
+all the time, but I saw him sneak in at Vienna, and I wasn't having any.
+I say, do you come here every evening?"
+
+"Very often," she answered. "I dance at the Comique, and then we
+generally go to Maxim's to supper, and up here afterwards. I'll
+introduce you to my friends afterwards, if you like, and we'll all sit
+together. If you're very good I'll dance to you!"
+
+"Delighted," he answered, "if they speak English. I'm sick of trying to
+make people understand my rotten French."
+
+She nodded.
+
+"They speak English all right. I wish that horrid Viennese girl wouldn't
+try to listen to every word we say."
+
+He smiled.
+
+"She wanted me to sit at her table," he remarked.
+
+Mademoiselle Flossie looked at him warningly, and dropped her voice.
+
+"Better be careful!" she whispered. "They say she's a spy!"
+
+"On my track very likely," he declared with a grin.
+
+She threw herself back in her seat and laughed.
+
+"Conceited! Why should any one want to be on your track? Come and see me
+dance at the Comique to-morrow night."
+
+"Can't," he declared. "My sister's coming over from England."
+
+"Stupid!"
+
+"Oh, I'll come one night," he declared. "Order some coffee, won't
+you--and what liqueurs?"
+
+"I'll go and fetch my friends," she declared, rising. "We'll all have
+coffee together."
+
+"Who are they?" he asked.
+
+She pointed to a little group down the room--two men and a woman. The
+men were French, one middle-aged and one young, dark, immaculate, and
+with the slightly bored air affected by young Frenchmen of fashion; the
+woman was strikingly handsome and magnificently dressed. They were quite
+the most distinguished-looking people in the room.
+
+"If you think they'll come," he remarked doubtfully. "Aren't we rather
+comfortable as we are?"
+
+She made her way between the tables.
+
+"Oh, they'll come," she declared. "They're pals!"
+
+She floated down the room with a cigarette in her mouth, very graceful
+in her airy muslin skirts and large hat. Guy followed her admiringly
+with his eyes. The Viennese lady suddenly tore off a corner of her menu
+and scribbled something quickly. She passed it over to Guy.
+
+"Read!" she said imperatively.
+
+He nodded, and opened it.
+
+"_Prenez garde!_" he said slowly. Then he looked at her and shook his
+head. She was making signs to him to destroy her message, and he at once
+did so.
+
+"Don't understand!" he said. "Sorry!"
+
+Mademoiselle Flossie was laughing and talking with her friends.
+Presently they rose, and came across the room with her. Guy stood up and
+bowed. The introductions were informal, but he felt his insular
+prejudices a little shattered by the delightful ease with which these
+two Frenchmen accepted the situation. Their breeding was as obvious as
+their _bonhomie_. The table was speedily rearranged to find places for
+them all.
+
+"Your friends will take coffee with me, Mademoiselle," Guy said. "Do be
+hostess, please. My attempts at French will only amuse everybody."
+
+The elder of the two Frenchmen, whom the waiter addressed as Monsieur le
+Baron, and every one else as Louis, held up his hand.
+
+"With pleasure!" he declared, "later on. Just now it is too early. We
+will celebrate _l'entente cordiale_. _Garcon_, a magnum of Pommery, _un
+neu frappe_! I know you will forgive the liberty," he said, smiling at
+Guy. "This bottle is vowed. Flossie has smiled for the first time for
+three evenings."
+
+She threw a paper fan at him, and sat down again by Guy.
+
+"Do tell him the story you told me," she whispered in his ear. "Louis,
+listen!"
+
+Guy retold his story. Monsieur le Baron listened intently. So did the
+lady who had accompanied him. Guy felt that he told it very well, but
+for the second time he omitted all mention of that missing sheet of
+paper which had come into his possession. Monsieur le Baron was
+obviously much interested.
+
+"You are quite sure--of the two men?" he asked quietly.
+
+"Quite!" Guy answered confidently. "One was----"
+
+Madame--Flossie's friend--dropped a wineglass. Monsieur le Baron raised
+his hand.
+
+"No names," he said. "It is better not. We understand. A most
+interesting adventure, Monsieur Poynton, and--to your health!"
+
+The wine was good, and the fun of the place itself went almost to the
+head. Always there were newcomers who passed down the room amidst a
+chorus of greetings, always the gayest of music. Then amidst cheers
+Flossie and another friend whom she called from a distant table danced a
+cake-walk--danced very gracefully, and with a marvellous display of
+rainbow skirts. She came back breathless, and threw herself down by
+Guy's side.
+
+"Give me some more wine!" she panted. "How close the place is!"
+
+The younger Frenchman, who had scarcely spoken, leaned over.
+
+"An idea!" he exclaimed. "My automobile is outside. I will drive you all
+round the city. Monsieur Poynton shall see Paris undressed. Afterwards
+we will go to Louis' rooms and make his man cook us a _dejeuner
+Anglais_."
+
+Flossie stood up and laughed.
+
+"Who'll lend me a coat?" she cried. "I've nothing but a lace mantle."
+
+"Plenty of Frenchmen in the car," the young Frenchman cried. "Are we
+all agreed? Good! _Garcon, l'addition!_"
+
+"And mine," Guy ordered.
+
+The women departed for their wraps. Guy and the two Frenchmen filled
+their pockets with cigarettes. When the bills came Guy found that his
+own was a trifle, and Monsieur Louis waved aside all protest.
+
+"We are hosts to-night, my young friend," he declared with charming
+insistence. "Another time you shall have your turn. You must come round
+to the club to-morrow, and we will arrange for some sport. _Allons!_"
+
+They crowded out together amidst a chorus of farewells. Guy took
+Flossie's arm going down the stairs.
+
+"I say, I'm awfully obliged to you for introducing me to your friends,"
+he declared. "I'm having a ripping time!"
+
+She laughed.
+
+"Oh, they're all right," she declared. "Mind my skirts!"
+
+"I say, what does '_prenez garde_' mean?" he asked.
+
+"'Take care.' Why?"
+
+He laughed again.
+
+"Nothing!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE
+
+
+"Mademoiselle," the young man said, with an air of somewhat weary
+politeness, "I regret to say that there is nothing more to be done!"
+
+He was grieved and polite because Mademoiselle was beautiful and in
+trouble. For the rest he was a little tired of her. Brothers of
+twenty-one, who have never been in Paris before, and cannot speak the
+language, must occasionally get lost, and the British Embassy is not
+exactly a transported Scotland Yard.
+
+"Then," she declared, with a vigorous little stamp of her shapely foot,
+"I don't see what we keep an Ambassador here for at all--or any of you.
+It is scandalous!"
+
+The Hon. Nigel Fergusson dropped his eyeglass and surveyed the young
+lady attentively.
+
+"My dear Miss Poynton," he said, "I will not presume to argue with you.
+We are here, I suppose, for some purpose or other. Whether we fulfil it
+or not may well be a matter of opinion. But that purpose is certainly
+not to look after any young idiot--you must excuse my speaking
+plainly--who runs amuck in this most fascinating city. In your case the
+Chief has gone out of his way to help you. He has interviewed the chief
+of police himself, brought his influence to bear in various quarters,
+and I can tell you conscientiously that everything which possibly can
+be done is being done at the present moment. If you wish for my advice
+it is this: Send for some friend to keep you company here, and try to be
+patient. You are in all probability making yourself needlessly
+miserable."
+
+She looked at him a little reproachfully. He noticed, however, with
+secret joy that she was drawing on her gloves.
+
+"Patient! He was to meet me here ten days ago. He arrived at the hotel.
+His clothes are all there, and his bill unpaid. He went out the night of
+his arrival, and has never returned. Patient! Well, I am much obliged to
+you, Mr. Fergusson. I have no doubt that you have done all that your
+duty required. Good afternoon!"
+
+"Good afternoon, Miss Poynton, and don't be too despondent. Remember
+that the French police are the cleverest in the world, and they are
+working for you."
+
+She looked up at him scornfully.
+
+"Police, indeed!" she answered. "Do you know that all they have done so
+far is to keep sending for me to go and look at dead bodies down at the
+Morgue? I think that I shall send over for an English detective."
+
+"You might do worse," he answered; "but in any case, Miss Poynton, I do
+hope that you will send over for some friend or relation to keep you
+company. Paris is scarcely a fit place for you to be alone and in
+trouble."
+
+"Thank you," she said. "I will remember what you have said."
+
+The young man watched her depart with a curious mixture of relief and
+regret.
+
+"The young fool's been the usual round, I suppose, and he's either too
+much ashamed of himself or too besotted to turn up. I wish she wasn't
+quite so devilish good-looking," he remarked to himself. "If she goes
+about alone she'll get badly scared before she's finished."
+
+Phyllis Poynton drove straight back to her hotel and went to her room. A
+sympathetic chambermaid followed her in.
+
+"Mademoiselle has news yet of her brother?" she inquired.
+
+Mademoiselle shook her head. Indeed her face was sufficient answer.
+
+"None at all, Marie."
+
+The chambermaid closed the door.
+
+"It would help Mademoiselle, perhaps, if she knew where the young
+gentleman spent the evening before he disappeared?" she inquired
+mysteriously.
+
+"Of course! That is just what I want to find out."
+
+Marie smiled.
+
+"There is a young man here in the barber's shop, Mademoiselle," she
+announced. "He remembers Monsieur Poynton quite well. He went in there
+to be shaved, and he asked some questions. I think if Mademoiselle were
+to see him!"
+
+The girl jumped up at once.
+
+"Do you know his name?" she asked.
+
+"Monsieur Alphonse, they call him. He is on duty now."
+
+Phyllis Poynton descended at once to the ground
+floor of the hotel, and pushed open the glass door which led into the
+coiffeur's shop. Monsieur Alphonse was waiting upon a customer, and she
+was given a chair. In a few minutes he descended the spiral iron
+staircase and desired to know Mademoiselle's pleasure.
+
+"You speak English?" she asked.
+
+"But certainly, Mademoiselle."
+
+She gave a little sigh of relief.
+
+"I wonder," she said, "if you remember waiting upon my brother last
+Thursday week. He was tall and fair, and something like me. He had just
+arrived in Paris."
+
+Monsieur Alphonse smiled. He rarely forgot a face, and the young
+Englishman's tip had been munificent.
+
+"Perfectly, Mademoiselle," he answered. "They sent for me because
+Monsieur spoke no French."
+
+"My chambermaid, Marie, told me that you might perhaps know how he
+proposed to spend the evening," she continued. "He was quite a stranger
+in Paris, and he may have asked for some information."
+
+Monsieur Alphonse smiled, and extended his hands.
+
+"It is quite true," he answered. "He asked me where to go, and I say to
+the Folies Bergeres. Then he said he had heard a good deal of the supper
+cafes, and he asked me which was the most amusing. I tell him the Cafe
+Montmartre. He wrote it down."
+
+"Do you think that he meant to go there?" she asked.
+
+"But certainly. He promised to come and tell me the next day how he
+amused himself."
+
+"The Cafe Montmartre. Where is it?" she asked.
+
+"In the Place de Montmartre. But Mademoiselle pardons--she will
+understand that it is a place for men."
+
+"Are women not admitted?" she asked.
+
+Alphonse smiled.
+
+"But--yes. Only Mademoiselle understands that if a lady should go there
+she would need to be very well escorted."
+
+She rose and slipped a coin into his hand.
+
+"I am very much obliged to you," she said. "By the bye, have any other
+people made inquiries of you concerning my brother?"
+
+"No one at all, Mademoiselle!" the man answered.
+
+She almost slammed the door behind when she went out.
+
+"And they say that the French police are the cleverest in the world,"
+she exclaimed indignantly.
+
+Monsieur Alphonse watched her through the glass pane.
+
+"_Ciel!_ But she is pretty!" he murmured to himself.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+She turned into the writing-room, and taking off her gloves she wrote a
+letter. Her pretty fingers were innocent of rings, and her handwriting
+was a little shaky. Nevertheless, it is certain that not a man passed
+through the room who did not find an excuse to steal a second glance at
+her. This is what she wrote:--
+
+     "MY DEAR ANDREW,--I am in great distress here, and
+     very unhappy. I should have written to you before, but I know
+     that you have your own trouble to bear just now, and I hated
+     to bother you. I arrived here punctually on the date arranged
+     upon between Guy and myself, and found that he had arrived the
+     night before, and had engaged a room for me. He was out when I
+     came. I changed my clothes and sat down to wait for him. He
+     did not return. I made inquiries and found that he had left
+     the hotel at eight o'clock the previous evening. To cut the
+     matter short, ten days have now elapsed and he has not yet
+     returned.
+
+     "I have been to the Embassy, to the police, and to the Morgue.
+     Nowhere have I found the slightest trace of him. No one seems
+     to take the least interest in his disappearance. The police
+     shrug their shoulders, and look at me as though I ought to
+     understand--he will return very shortly they are quite sure.
+     At the Embassy they have begun to look upon me as a nuisance.
+     The Morgue--Heaven send that I may one day forget the horror
+     of my hasty visits there. I have come to the conclusion,
+     Andrew, that I must search for him myself. How, I do not know;
+     where, I do not know. But I shall not leave Paris until I have
+     found him.
+
+     "Andrew, what I want is a friend here. A few months ago I
+     should not have hesitated a moment to ask you to come to me.
+     To-day that is impossible. Your presence here would only be an
+     embarrassment to both of us. Do you know of any one who would
+     come? I have not a single relative whom I can ask to help me.
+     Would you advise me to write to Scotland Yard for a detective,
+     or go to one of these agencies? If not, can you think of any
+     one who would come here and help me, either for your sake as
+     your friend, or, better still, a detective who can speak
+     French and whom one can trust? All our lives Guy and I have
+     congratulated ourselves that we have no relation nearer than
+     India. I am finding out the other side of it now.
+
+     "I know that you will do what you can for me, Andrew. Write to
+     me by return.
+
+
+     "Yours in great trouble and distress,
+
+       "PHYLLIS POYNTON."
+
+She sealed and addressed her letter, and saw it despatched. Afterwards
+she crossed the courtyard to the restaurant, and did her best to eat
+some dinner. When she had finished it was only half-past eight. She rang
+for the lift and ascended to the fourth floor. On her way down the
+corridor a sudden thought struck her. She took a key from her pocket and
+entered the room which her brother had occupied.
+
+His things were still lying about in some disorder, and neither of his
+trunks was locked. She went down on her knees and calmly proceeded to go
+through his belongings. It was rather a forlorn hope, but it seemed to
+her just possible that there might be in some of his pockets a letter
+which would throw light upon his disappearance. She found nothing of the
+sort, however. There were picture postcards, a few photographs, and a
+good many restaurant bills, but they were all from places in Germany and
+Austria. At the bottom of the second trunk, however, she found something
+which he had evidently considered it worth while to preserve carefully.
+It was a thick sheet of official-looking paper, bearing at the top an
+embossed crown, and covered with German writing. It was numbered at the
+top "seventeen," and it was evidently an odd sheet of some document. She
+folded it carefully up, and took it back with her to her own room. Then,
+with the help of a German dictionary, she commenced to study it. At the
+end of an hour she had made out a rough translation, which she read
+carefully through. When she had finished she was thoroughly perplexed.
+She had an uncomfortable sense of having come into touch with something
+wholly unexpected and mysterious.
+
+"What am I to do?" she said to herself softly.
+
+"What can it mean? Where on earth can Guy--have found this?"
+
+There was no one to answer her, no one to advise. An overwhelming sense
+of her own loneliness brought the tears into her eyes. She sat for some
+time with her face buried in her hands. Then she rose up, calmly
+destroyed her translation with minute care, and locked away the
+mysterious sheet at the bottom of her dressing-bag. The more she thought
+of it the less, after all, she felt inclined to connect it with his
+disappearance.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE FALLING OF THE HANDKERCHIEF
+
+
+Monsieur Albert looked over her shoulder for the man who must surely be
+in attendance--but he looked in vain.
+
+"Mademoiselle wishes a table--for herself alone!" he repeated
+doubtfully.
+
+"If you please," she answered.
+
+It was obvious that Mademoiselle was of the class which does not
+frequent night cafes alone, but after all that was scarcely Monsieur
+Albert's concern. She came perhaps from that strange land of the free,
+whose daughters had long ago kicked over the barriers of sex with the
+same abandon that Mademoiselle Flossie would display the soles of her
+feet a few hours later in their national dance. If she had chanced to
+raise her veil no earthly persuasions on her part would have secured for
+her the freedom of that little room, for Monsieur Albert's appreciation
+of likeness was equal to his memory for faces. But it was not until she
+was comfortably ensconced at a corner table, from which she had a good
+view of the room, that she did so, and Monsieur Albert realized with a
+philosophic shrug of the shoulders the error he had committed.
+
+Phyllis looked about her with some curiosity. It was too early for the
+habitues of the place, and most of the tables were empty. The
+scarlet-coated band were smoking cigarettes, and had not yet produced
+their instruments. The conductor curled his black moustache and stared
+hard at the beautiful young English lady, without, however, being able
+to attract a single glance in return. One or two men also tried to
+convey to her by smiles and glances the fact that her solitude need
+continue no longer than she chose. The unattached ladies put their heads
+together and discussed her with little peals of laughter. To all of
+these things she remained indifferent. She ordered a supper which she
+ate mechanically, and wine which she scarcely drank. All the while she
+was considering. Now that she was here what could she do? Of whom was
+she to make inquiries? She scanned the faces of the newcomers with a
+certain grave curiosity which puzzled them. She neither invited nor
+repelled notice. She remained entirely at her ease.
+
+Monsieur Albert, during one of his peregrinations round the room, passed
+close to her table. She stopped him.
+
+"I trust that Mademoiselle is well served!" he remarked with a little
+bow.
+
+"Excellently, I thank you," she answered.
+
+He would have passed on, but she detained him.
+
+"You have very many visitors here," she remarked. "Is it the same
+always?"
+
+He smiled.
+
+"To-night," he declared, "it is nothing. There are many who come here
+every evening. They amuse themselves here."
+
+"You have a good many strangers also?" she asked.
+
+"But certainly," he declared. "All the time!"
+
+"I have a brother," she said, "who was here eleven nights ago--let me
+see--that would be last Tuesday week. He is tall and fair, about
+twenty-one, and they say like me. I wonder if you remember him."
+
+Monsieur Albert shook his head slowly.
+
+"That is strange," he declared, "for as a rule I forget no one. Last
+Tuesday week I remember perfectly well. It was a quiet evening. La Scala
+was here--but of the rest no one. If Mademoiselle's brother was here it
+is most strange."
+
+Her lip quivered for a moment. She was disappointed.
+
+"I am so sorry," she said. "I hoped that you might have been able to
+help me. He left the Grand Hotel on that night with the intention of
+coming here--and he never returned. I have been very much worried ever
+since."
+
+She was no great judge of character, but Monsieur Albert's sympathy did
+not impress her with its sincerity.
+
+"If Mademoiselle desires," he said, "I will make inquiries amongst the
+waiters. I very much fear, however, that she will obtain no news here."
+
+He departed, and Phyllis watched him talking to some of the waiters and
+the leader of the orchestra.
+
+Presently he returned.
+
+"I am very sorry," he announced, "but the brother of Mademoiselle could
+not have come here. I have inquired of the garcons, and of Monsieur
+Jules there, who forgets no one. They answer all the same."
+
+"Thank you very much," she answered. "It must have been somewhere else!"
+
+She was unreasonably disappointed. It had been a very slender chance,
+but at least it was something tangible. She had scarcely expected to
+have it snapped so soon and so thoroughly. She dropped her veil to hide
+the tears which she felt were not far from her eyes, and summoned the
+waiter for her bill. There seemed to be no object in staying longer.
+Suddenly the unexpected happened.
+
+A hand, flashing with jewels, was rested for a moment upon her table.
+When it was withdrawn a scrap of paper remained there.
+
+Phyllis looked up in amazement. The girl to whom the hand had belonged
+was sitting at the next table, but her head was turned away, and she
+seemed to be only concerned in watching the door. She drew the scrap of
+paper towards her and cautiously opened it. This is what she read,
+written in English, but with a foreign turn to most of the letters:--
+
+     "Monsieur Albert lied. Your brother was here. Wait till I
+     speak to you."
+
+Instinctively she crumpled up this strange little note in her hand. She
+struggled hard to maintain her composure. She had at once the idea that
+every one in the place was looking at her. Monsieur Albert, indeed, on
+his way down the room wondered what had driven the hopeless expression
+from her face.
+
+The waiter brought her bill. She paid it and tipped him with prodigality
+which for a woman was almost reckless. Then she ordered coffee, and
+after a second's hesitation cigarettes. Why not? Nearly all the women
+were smoking, and she desired to pass for the moment as one of them. For
+the first time she ventured to gaze at her neighbor.
+
+It was the young lady from Vienna. She was dressed in a wonderful
+demi-toilette of white lace, and she wore a large picture hat adjusted
+at exactly the right angle for her profile. From her throat and bosom
+there flashed the sparkle of many gems--the finger which held her
+cigarette was ablaze with diamonds. She leaned back in her seat smoking
+lazily, and she met Phyllis's furtive gaze with almost insolent
+coldness. But a moment later, when Monsieur Albert's back was turned,
+she leaned forward and addressed her rapidly.
+
+"A man will come here," she said, "who could tell you, if he was
+willing, all that you seek to know. He will come to-night--he comes all
+the nights. You will see I hold my handkerchief so in my right hand.
+When he comes I shall drop it--so!"
+
+The girl's swift speech, her half-fearful glances towards the door,
+puzzled Phyllis.
+
+"Can you not come nearer to me and talk?" she asked.
+
+"No! You must not speak to me again. You must not let any one,
+especially the man himself, know what I have told you. No more now.
+Watch for the handkerchief!"
+
+"But what shall I say to him?"
+
+The girl took no notice of her. She was looking in the opposite
+direction. She seemed to have edged away as far as possible from her.
+Phyllis drew a long breath.
+
+She felt her heart beating with excitement. The place suddenly seemed to
+her like part of a nightmare.
+
+And then all was clear again. Fortune was on her side. The secret of
+Guy's disappearance was in this room, and a few careless words from the
+girl at the next table had told her more than an entire police system
+had been able to discover. But why the mystery? What was she to say to
+the man when he came? The girl from Vienna was talking to some friends
+and toying carelessly with a little morsel of lace which she had drawn
+from her bosom. Phyllis watched it with the eyes of a cat. Every now
+and then she watched also the door.
+
+The place was much fuller now. Mademoiselle Flossie had arrived with a
+small company of friends from Maxim's. The music was playing all the
+time. The popping of corks was almost incessant, the volume of sound had
+swelled. The laughter and greeting of friends betrayed more abandon than
+earlier in the evening. Old acquaintances had been renewed, and new ones
+made. Mademoiselle from Vienna was surrounded by a little circle of
+admirers. Still she held in her right hand a crumpled up little ball of
+lace.
+
+Men passing down the room tried to attract the attention of the
+beautiful young English demoiselle who looked out upon the little scene
+so indifferently as regarded individuals, and yet with such eager
+interest as a whole. No one was bold enough, however, to make a second
+effort. Necessity at times gives birth to a swift capacity. Fresh from
+her simple country life, Phyllis found herself still able with
+effortless serenity to confound the most hardened boulevarders who
+paused to ogle her. Her eyes and lips expressed with ease the most
+convincing and absolute indifference to their approaches. A man may
+sometimes brave anger; he rarely has courage to combat indifference. So
+Phyllis held her own and waited.
+
+And at last the handkerchief fell. Phyllis felt her own heart almost
+stop beating, as she gazed down the room. A man of medium height, dark,
+distinguished, was slowly approaching her, exchanging greetings on every
+side. His languid eyes fell upon Phyllis. Those who had watched her
+previously saw then a change. The cold indifference had vanished from
+her face. She leaned forward as though anxious to attract his
+attention. She succeeded easily enough.
+
+He was almost opposite her table, and her half smile seemed to leave him
+but little choice. He touched the back of the chair which fronted hers,
+and took off his hat.
+
+"Mademoiselle permits?" he asked softly.
+
+"But certainly," she answered. "It is you for whom I have been waiting!"
+
+"Mademoiselle flatters me!" he murmured, more than a little astonished.
+
+"Not in the least," she answered. "I have been waiting to ask you what
+has become of my brother--Guy Poynton!"
+
+He drew out the chair and seated himself. His eyes never left her face.
+
+"Mademoiselle," he murmured, "this is most extraordinary!"
+
+She noticed then that his hands were trembling.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT
+
+
+"I am asking a great deal of you, George! I know it. But you see how
+helpless I am--and read the letter--read it for yourself."
+
+He passed Phyllis's letter across the small round dining-table. His
+guest took it and read it carefully through.
+
+"How old is the young lady?" he asked.
+
+"Twenty-three!"
+
+"And the boy?"
+
+"Twenty-one."
+
+"Orphans, I think you said?"
+
+"Orphans and relationless."
+
+"Well off?"
+
+"Moderately."
+
+Duncombe leaned back in his chair and sipped his port thoughtfully.
+
+"It is an extraordinary situation!" he remarked.
+
+"Extraordinary indeed," his friend assented. "But so far as I am
+concerned you can see how I am fixed. I am older than either of them,
+but I have always been their nearest neighbor and their most intimate
+friend. If ever they have needed advice they have come to me for it. If
+ever I have needed a day's shooting for myself or a friend I have gone
+to them. This Continental tour of theirs we discussed and planned out,
+months beforehand. If my misfortune had not come on just when it did I
+should have gone with them, and even up to the last we hoped that I
+might be able to go to Paris with Phyllis."
+
+Duncombe nodded.
+
+"Tell me about the boy," he said.
+
+His host shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"You know what they're like at that age," he remarked. "He was at
+Harrow, but he shied at college, and there was no one to insist upon his
+going. The pair of them had only a firm of lawyers for guardians. He's
+just a good-looking, clean-minded, high-spirited young fellow, full of
+beans, and needing the bit every now and then. But, of course, he's no
+different from the run of young fellows of his age, and if an adventure
+came his way I suppose he'd see it through."
+
+"And the girl?"
+
+Andrew Pelham rose from his seat.
+
+"I will show you her photograph," he said.
+
+He passed into an inner room divided from the dining-room by curtains.
+In a moment or two he reappeared.
+
+"Here it is!" he said, and laid a picture upon the table.
+
+Now Duncombe was a young man who prided himself a little on being
+unimpressionable. He took up the picture with a certain tolerant
+interest and examined it, at first without any special feeling. Yet in a
+moment or two he felt himself grateful for those great disfiguring
+glasses from behind which his host was temporarily, at least, blind to
+all that passed. A curious disturbance seemed to have passed into his
+blood. He felt his eyes brighten, and his breath come a little quicker,
+as he unconsciously created in his imagination the living presentment
+of the girl whose picture he was still holding. Tall she was, and slim,
+with a soft, white throat, and long, graceful neck; eyes rather darker
+than her complexion warranted, a little narrow, but bright as stars--a
+mouth with the divine lines of humor and understanding. It was only a
+picture, but a realization of the living image seemed to be creeping in
+upon him. He made the excuse of seeking a better light, and moved across
+to a distant lamp. He bent over the picture, but it was not the picture
+which he saw. He saw the girl herself, and even with the half-formed
+thought he saw her expression change. He saw her eyes lit with sorrow
+and appeal--he saw her arms outstretched towards him--he seemed even to
+hear her soft cry. He knew then what his answer would be to his friend's
+prayer. He thought no more of the excuses which he had been building in
+his mind; of all the practical suggestions which he had been prepared to
+make. Common-sense died away within him. The matter-of-fact man of
+thirty was ready to tread in the footsteps of this great predecessor,
+and play the modern knight-errant with the whole-heartedness of Don
+Quixote himself. He fancied himself by her side, and his heart leaped
+with joy of it. He thought no more of abandoned cricket matches and
+neglected house parties. A finger of fire had been laid upon his
+somewhat torpid flesh and blood.
+
+"Well?" Andrew asked.
+
+Duncombe returned to the table, and laid the picture down with a
+reluctance which he could scarcely conceal.
+
+"Very nice photograph," he remarked. "Taken locally?"
+
+"I took it myself," Andrew answered. "I used to be rather great at that
+sort of thing before--before my eyes went dicky."
+
+Duncombe resumed his seat. He helped himself to another glass of wine.
+
+"I presume," he said, "from the fact that you call yourself their
+nearest friend, that the young lady is not engaged?"
+
+"No," Andrew answered slowly. "She is not engaged."
+
+Something a little different in his voice caught his friend's attention.
+Duncombe eyed him keenly. He was conscious of a sense of apprehension.
+He leaned over the table.
+
+"Do you mean, Andrew----?" he asked hoarsely. "Do you mean----?"
+
+"Yes, I mean that," his friend answered quietly. "Nice sort of old fool,
+am I not? I'm twelve years older than she is, I'm only moderately well
+off and less than moderately good-looking. But after all I'm only human,
+and I've seen her grow up from a fresh, charming child into one of God's
+wonderful women. Even a gardener, you know, George, loves the roses he
+has planted and watched over. I've taught her a little and helped her a
+little, and I've watched her cross the borderland."
+
+"Does she know?"
+
+Andrew shook his head doubtfully.
+
+"I think," he said, "that she was beginning to guess. Three months ago I
+should have spoken--but my trouble came. I didn't mean to tell you this,
+but perhaps it is as well that you should know. You can understand now
+what I am suffering. To think of her there alone almost maddens me."
+
+Duncombe rose suddenly from his seat.
+
+"Come out into the garden, Andrew," he said. "I feel stifled here."
+
+His host rose and took Duncombe's arm. They passed out through the
+French window on to the gravel path which circled the cedar-shaded lawn.
+A shower had fallen barely an hour since, and the air was full of fresh
+delicate fragrance. Birds were singing in the dripping trees, blackbirds
+were busy in the grass. The perfume from the wet lilac shrubs was a very
+dream of sweetness. Andrew pointed across a park which sloped down to
+the garden boundary.
+
+"Up there, amongst the elm trees, George," he said, "can you see a gleam
+of white? That is the Hall, just to the left of the rookery."
+
+Duncombe nodded.
+
+"Yes," he said, "I can see it."
+
+"Guy and she walked down so often after dinner," he said quietly. "I
+have stood here and watched them. Sometimes she came alone. What a long
+time ago that seems!"
+
+Duncombe's grip upon his arm tightened.
+
+"Andrew," he said, "I can't go!"
+
+There was a short silence. Andrew stood quite still. All around them was
+the soft weeping of dripping shrubs. An odorous whiff from the walled
+rose-garden floated down the air.
+
+"I'm sorry, George! It's a lot to ask you, I know."
+
+"It isn't that!"
+
+Andrew turned his head toward his friend. The tone puzzled him.
+
+"I don't understand."
+
+"No wonder, old fellow! I don't understand myself."
+
+There was another short silence. Andrew stood with his almost sightless
+eyes turned upon his friend, and Duncombe was looking up through the elm
+trees to the Hall. He was trying to fancy her as she must have appeared
+to this man who dwelt alone, walking down the meadow in the evening.
+
+"No," he repeated softly, "I don't understand myself. You've known me
+for a long time, Andrew. You wouldn't write me down as altogether a
+sentimental ass, would you?"
+
+"I should not, George. I should never even use the word 'sentimental' in
+connection with you."
+
+Duncombe turned and faced him squarely. He laid his hands upon his
+friend's shoulders.
+
+"Old man," he said, "here's the truth. So far as a man can be said to
+have lost his heart without rhyme or reason, I've lost mine to the girl
+of that picture."
+
+Andrew drew a quick breath.
+
+"Rubbish, George!" he exclaimed. "Why, you never saw her. You don't know
+her!"
+
+"It is quite true," Duncombe answered. "And yet--I have seen her
+picture."
+
+His friend laughed queerly.
+
+"You, George Duncombe, in love with a picture. Stony-hearted George, we
+used to call you. I can't believe it! I can't take you seriously. It's
+all rot, you know, isn't it! It must be rot!"
+
+"It sounds like it," Duncombe answered quietly. "Put it this way, if you
+like. I have seen a picture of the woman whom, if ever I meet, I most
+surely shall love. What there is that speaks to me from that picture I
+do not know. You say that only love can beget love. Then there is that
+in the picture which points beyond. You see, I have talked like this in
+an attempt to be honest. You have told me that you care for her.
+Therefore I have told you these strange things. Now do you wish me to go
+to Paris, for if you say yes I shall surely go!"
+
+Again Andrew laughed, and this time his mirth sounded more natural.
+
+"Let me see," he said. "We drank Pontet Canet for dinner. You refused
+liqueurs, but I think you drank two glasses of port. George, what has
+come over you? What has stirred your slow-moving blood to fancies like
+these? Bah! We are playing with one another. Listen! For the sake of our
+friendship, George, I beg you to grant me this great favor. Go to Paris
+to-morrow and help Phyllis!"
+
+"You mean it?"
+
+"God knows I do. If ever I took you seriously, George--if ever I feared
+to lose the woman I love--well, I should be a coward for my own sake to
+rob her of help when she needs it so greatly. Be her friend, George, and
+mine. For the rest the fates must provide!"
+
+"The fates!" Duncombe answered. "Ay, it seems to me that they have been
+busy about my head to-night. It is settled, then. I will go!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE VANISHING LADY
+
+
+At precisely half-past nine on the following evening Duncombe alighted
+from his _petite voiture_ in the courtyard of the Grand Hotel, and
+making his way into the office engaged a room. And then he asked the
+question which a hundred times on the way over he had imagined himself
+asking. A man to whom nervousness in any shape was almost unknown, he
+found himself only able to control his voice and manner with the
+greatest difficulty. In a few moments he might see her.
+
+"You have a young English lady--Miss Poynton--staying here, I believe,"
+he said. "Can you tell me if she is in now?"
+
+The clerk looked at him with sudden interest.
+
+"Miss Poynton is staying here, sir," he said. "I do not believe that she
+is in just now. Will you wait one moment?"
+
+He disappeared rapidly, and was absent for several minutes. When he
+returned he came out into the reception hall.
+
+"The manager would be much obliged if you would step into his office for
+a moment, sir," he said confidentially. "Will you come this way?"
+
+Duncombe followed him into a small room behind the counter. A
+gray-haired man rose from his desk and saluted him courteously.
+
+"Sir George Duncombe, I believe," he said. "Will you kindly take a
+seat?"
+
+Duncombe did as he was asked. All the time he felt that the manager was
+scrutinizing him curiously.
+
+"Your clerk," he said, "told me that you wished to speak to me."
+
+"Exactly!" the manager answered. "You inquired when you came in for Miss
+Poynton. May I ask--are you a friend of hers?"
+
+"I am here on behalf of her friends," Duncombe answered. "I have letters
+to her."
+
+The manager bowed gravely.
+
+"I trust," he said, "that you will soon have an opportunity to deliver
+them. We are not, of course, responsible in any way for the conduct or
+doings of our clients here, but I am bound to say that both the young
+people of the name you mention have been the cause of much anxiety to
+us."
+
+"What do you mean?" Duncombe asked quickly.
+
+"Mr. Guy Poynton," the manager continued, "arrived here about three
+weeks ago, and took a room for himself and one for his sister, who was
+to arrive on the following day. He went out that same evening, and has
+never since returned. Of that fact you are no doubt aware."
+
+Duncombe nodded impatiently.
+
+"Yes!" he said. "That is why I am here."
+
+"His sister arrived on the following day, and was naturally very
+distressed. We did all that we could for her. We put her in the way of
+communicating with the police and the Embassy here, and we gave her
+every assistance that was possible. Four nights ago Mademoiselle went
+out late. Since then we have seen nothing of her. Mademoiselle also has
+disappeared."
+
+Duncombe sprang to his feet. He was suddenly pale.
+
+"Good God!" he exclaimed. "Four nights ago! She went out alone, you
+say?"
+
+"How else? She had no friends here. Once or twice at my suggestion she
+had taken one of our guides with her, but she discontinued this as she
+fancied that it made her conspicuous. She was all the time going round
+to places making inquiries about her brother."
+
+Duncombe felt himself suddenly precipitated into a new world--a
+nightmare of horrors. He was no stranger in the city, and grim
+possibilities unfolded themselves before his eyes. Four nights ago!
+
+"You have sent--to the police?"
+
+"Naturally. But in Paris--Monsieur must excuse me if I speak plainly--a
+disappearance of this sort is never regarded seriously by them. You know
+the life here without doubt, Monsieur! Your accent proves that you are
+well acquainted with the city. No doubt their conclusions are based upon
+direct observation, and in most cases are correct--but it is very
+certain that Monsieur the Superintendent regards such disappearances as
+these as due to one cause only."
+
+Duncombe frowned, and something flashed in his eyes which made the
+manager very glad that he had not put forward this suggestion on his own
+account.
+
+"With regard to the boy," he said, "this might be likely enough. But
+with regard to the young lady it is of course wildly preposterous. I
+will go to the police myself," he added, rising.
+
+"One moment, Sir George," the manager continued. "The disappearance of
+the young lady was a source of much trouble to me, and I made all
+possible inquiries within the hotel. I found that on the day of her
+disappearance Mademoiselle had been told by one of the attendants in
+the barber's shop, who had waited upon her brother on the night of his
+arrival, that he--Monsieur Guy--had asked for the name of some cafes for
+supper, and that he had recommended Cafe Montmartre. Mademoiselle
+appears to have decided to go there herself to make inquiries. We have
+no doubt that when she left the hotel on the night of her disappearance
+it was to there that she went."
+
+"You have told the police this?"
+
+"Yes, I have told them," the manager answered dryly. "Here is their
+latest report, if you care to see it."
+
+Duncombe took the little slip of paper and read it hastily.
+
+     "Disappearance of Mademoiselle Poynton, from England.--We
+     regret to state no trace has been discovered of the missing
+     young lady.
+
+       "(Signed) JULES LEGARDE, Superintendent."
+
+"That was only issued a few hours ago," the manager said.
+
+"And I thought," Duncombe said bitterly, "that the French police were
+the best in the world!"
+
+The manager said nothing. Duncombe rose from his chair.
+
+"I shall go myself to the Cafe Montmartre," he said. The manager bowed.
+
+"I shall be glad," he said, "to divest myself of any further
+responsibility in this matter. It has been a source of much anxiety to
+the directors as well as myself."
+
+Duncombe walked out of the room, and putting on his coat again called
+for a _petite voiture_. He gave the man the address in the Rue St.
+Honore and was driven to a block of flats there over some shops.
+
+"Is Monsieur Spencer in?" he asked the concierge. He was directed to the
+first floor. An English man-servant admitted him, and a few moments
+later he was shaking hands with a man who was seated before a table
+covered with loose sheets of paper.
+
+"Duncombe, by all that's wonderful!" he exclaimed, holding out his hand.
+"Why, I thought that you had shaken the dust of the city from your feet
+forever, and turned country squire. Sit down! What will you have?"
+
+"First of all, am I disturbing you?"
+
+Spencer shook his head.
+
+"I've no Press work to-night," he answered. "I've a clear hour to give
+you at any rate. When did you come?"
+
+"Two-twenty from Charing Cross," Duncombe answered. "I can't tell you
+how thankful I am to find you in, Spencer. I'm over on a very serious
+matter, and I want your advice."
+
+Spencer touched the bell. Cigars and cigarettes, whisky and soda,
+appeared as though by magic.
+
+"Now help yourself and go ahead, old chap," his host declared. "I'm a
+good listener."
+
+He proved himself so, sitting with half-closed eyes and an air of close
+attention until he had heard the whole story. He did not once interrupt,
+but when Duncombe had finished he asked a question.
+
+"What did you say was the name of this cafe where the boy had
+disappeared?"
+
+"Cafe Montmartre."
+
+Spencer sat up in his chair. His expression had changed.
+
+"The devil!" he murmured softly.
+
+"You know the place?"
+
+"Very well. It has an extraordinary reputation. I am sorry to say it,
+Duncombe, but it is a very bad place for your friend to have disappeared
+from."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"In the first place it is the resort of a good many of the most
+dangerous people in Europe--people who play the game through to the end.
+It is a perfect hot-bed of political intrigue, and it is under police
+protection."
+
+"Police protection! A place like that!" Duncombe exclaimed.
+
+"Not as you and I understand it, perhaps," Spencer explained. "There is
+no Scotland Yard extending a protecting arm over the place, and that
+sort of thing. But the place is haunted by spies, and there are
+intrigues carried on there in which the secret service police often take
+a hand. In return it is generally very hard to get to the bottom of any
+disappearance or even robbery there through the usual channels. To the
+casual visitor, and of course it attracts thousands from its reputation,
+it presents no more dangers perhaps than the ordinary night cafe of its
+sort. But I could think of a dozen men in Paris to-day, who, if they
+entered it, I honestly believe would never be seen again."
+
+Spencer was exaggerating, Duncombe murmured to himself. He was a
+newspaper correspondent, and he saw these things with the halo of
+melodrama around them. And yet--four nights ago. His face was white and
+haggard.
+
+"The boy," he said, "could have been no more than an ordinary visitor.
+He had no great sum of money with him, he had no secrets, he did not
+even speak the language. Surely he would have been too small fry for the
+intriguers of such a place!"
+
+"One would think so," Spencer answered musingly. "You are sure that he
+was only what you say?"
+
+"He was barely twenty-one," Duncombe answered, "and he had never been
+out of England before."
+
+"What about the girl?"
+
+"She is two years older. It was her first visit to Paris." Spencer
+nodded.
+
+"The disappearance of the boy is of course the riddle," he remarked. "If
+you solve that you arrive also at his sister's whereabouts. Upon my
+word, it is a poser. If it had been the boy alone--well, one could
+understand. The most beautiful ladies in Paris are at the Montmartre. No
+one is admitted who is not what they consider--chic! The great dancers
+and actresses are given handsome presents to show themselves there. On a
+representative evening it is probably the most brilliant little roomful
+in Europe. The boy of course might have lost his head easily enough, and
+then been ashamed to face his sister. But when you tell me of her
+disappearance, too, you confound me utterly. Is she good-looking?"
+
+"Very!"
+
+"She would go there, of course, asking for her brother," Spencer
+continued thoughtfully. "An utterly absurd thing to do, but no doubt she
+did, and--look here, Duncombe, I tell you what I'll do. I have my own
+two news-grabbers at hand, and nothing particular for them to do this
+evening. I'll send them up to the Cafe Montmartre."
+
+"It's awfully good of you, Spencer. I was going myself," Duncombe said,
+a little doubtfully.
+
+"You idiot!" his friend said cheerfully, yet with a certain emphasis.
+"English from your hair to your boots, you'd go in there and attempt to
+pump people who have been playing the game all their lives, and who
+would give you exactly what information suited their books. They'd know
+what you were there for, the moment you opened your mouth. Honestly,
+what manner of good do you think that you could do? You'd learn what
+they chose to tell you. If there's really anything serious behind all
+this, do you suppose it would be the truth?"
+
+"You're quite right, I suppose," Duncombe admitted, "but it seems
+beastly to be doing nothing."
+
+"Better be doing nothing than doing harm!" Spencer declared. "Look round
+the other cafes and the boulevards. And come here at eleven to-morrow
+morning. We'll breakfast together at Paillard's."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THE DECOY-HOUSE OF EUROPE
+
+
+Spencer wrote out his luncheon with the extreme care of the man to whom
+eating has passed to its proper place amongst the arts, and left to
+Duncombe the momentous question of red wine or white. Finally, he leaned
+back in his chair, and looked thoughtfully across at his companion.
+
+"Sir George," he said, "you have placed me in a very painful position."
+
+Duncombe glanced up from his _hors d'oeuvre_.
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"I will explain," Spencer continued. "You came to me last night with a
+story in which I hope that I showed a reasonable amount of interest, but
+in which, as a matter of fact, I was not interested at all. Girls and
+boys who come to Paris for the first time in their lives unattended, and
+find their way to the Cafe Montmartre, and such places, generally end up
+in the same place. It would have sounded brutal if I had added to your
+distress last night by talking like this, so I determined to put you in
+the way of finding out for yourself. I sent two of my most successful
+news-scouts to that place last night, and I had not the slightest doubt
+as to the nature of the information which they would bring back. It
+turns out that I was mistaken."
+
+"What did they discover?" Duncombe asked eagerly.
+
+"Nothing!"
+
+Duncombe's face fell, but he looked a little puzzled.
+
+"Nothing? I don't understand. They must have heard that they had been
+there anyhow."
+
+"They discovered nothing. You do not understand the significance of
+this. I do! It means that I was mistaken for one thing. Their
+disappearance has more in it than the usual significance. Evil may have
+come to them, but not the ordinary sort of evil. Listen! You say that
+the police have disappointed you in having discovered nothing. That is
+no longer extraordinary to me. The police, or those who stand behind
+them, are interested in this case, and in the withholding of information
+concerning it."
+
+"You are talking riddles to me, Spencer," Duncombe declared. "Do you
+mean that the police in Paris may become the hired tools of
+malefactors?"
+
+"Not altogether that," Spencer said, waving aside a dish presented
+before him by the head waiter himself with a gesture of approval. "Not
+necessarily malefactors. But there are other powers to be taken into
+consideration, and most unaccountably your two friends are in deeper
+water than your story led me to expect. Now, not another question,
+please, until you have tried that sauce. Absolute silence, if you
+please, for at least three or four minutes."
+
+Duncombe obeyed with an ill grace. He had little curiosity as to its
+flavor, and a very small appetite at all with the conversation in its
+present position. He waited for the stipulated time, however, and then
+leaned once more across the table.
+
+"Spencer!"
+
+"First I must have your judgment upon the sauce. Did you find enough
+mussels?"
+
+"Damn the sauce!" Duncombe answered. "Forgive me, Spencer, but this
+affair is, after all, a serious one to me. You say that your two scouts,
+as you call them, discovered nothing. Well, they had only one evening at
+it. Will they try again in other directions? Can I engage them to work
+for me? Money is absolutely no object."
+
+Spencer shook his head.
+
+"Duncombe," he said, "you're going to think me a poor sort of friend,
+but the truth is best. You must not count upon me any more. I cannot
+lift even my little finger to help you. I can only give you advice if
+you want it."
+
+"And that?"
+
+"Go back to England to-morrow. Chuck it altogether. You are up against
+too big a combination. You can do no one any good. You are a great deal
+more likely to come to harm yourself."
+
+Duncombe was quite quiet for several moments. When he spoke again his
+manner had a new stiffness.
+
+"You have surprised me a good deal, I must confess, Spencer. We will
+abandon the subject."
+
+Spencer shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"I know how you're feeling, old chap," he said. "I can't help it. You
+understand my position here. I write a daily letter for the best paying
+and most generous newspaper in the world, and it is absolutely necessary
+that I keep hand in glove with the people in high places here. My
+position absolutely demands it, and my duty to my chief necessitates my
+putting all personal feeling on one side in a case like this when a
+conflict arises."
+
+"But where," Duncombe asked, "does the conflict arise?"
+
+"Here!" Spencer answered. "I received a note this morning from a great
+personage in this country to whom I am under more obligation than any
+other breathing man, requesting me to refrain from making any further
+inquiries or assisting any one else to make them in this matter. I can
+assure you that I was thunderstruck, but the note is in my pocket at the
+present moment."
+
+"Does it mention them by name?"
+
+"The exact words are," Spencer answered, "'respecting the reported
+disappearance of the young Englishman, Mr. Guy Poynton, and his sister.'
+This will just show you how much you have to hope for from the police,
+for the person whose signature is at the foot of that note could command
+the implicit obedience of the whole system."
+
+Duncombe's cheeks were a little flushed. He was British to the backbone,
+and his obstinacy was being stirred.
+
+"The more reason," he said quietly, "so far as I can see, that I should
+continue my independent efforts with such help as I can secure. This
+girl and boy are fellow country-people, and I haven't any intention of
+leaving them in the clutches of any brutal gang of Frenchmen into whose
+hands they may have got. I shall go on doing what I can, Spencer."
+
+The journalist shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"I can't help sympathizing with you, Duncombe," he said, "but keep
+reasonable. You know your Paris well enough to understand that you
+haven't a thousand to one chance. Besides, Frenchmen are not brutal. If
+the boy got into a scrape, it was probably his own fault."
+
+"And the girl? What of her? Am I to leave her to the tender mercies of
+whatever particular crew of blackguards may have got her into their
+power?"
+
+"You are needlessly melodramatic," Spencer answered. "I will admit, of
+course, that her position may be an unfortunate one, but the personage
+whom I have the honor to call my friend does not often protect
+blackguards. Be reasonable, Duncombe! These young people are not
+relatives of yours, are they?"
+
+"No!"
+
+"Nor very old friends? The young lady, for instance?"
+
+Duncombe looked up, and his face was set in grim and dogged lines. He
+felt like a man who was nailing his colors to the mast.
+
+"The young lady," he said, "is, I pray Heaven, my future wife!"
+
+Spencer was honestly amazed, and a little shocked.
+
+"Forgive me, Duncombe," he said. "I had no idea--though perhaps I ought
+to have guessed."
+
+They went on with their luncheon in silence for some time, except for a
+few general remarks. But after the coffee had been brought and the
+cigarettes were alight, Spencer leaned once more across the table.
+
+"Tell me, Duncombe, what you mean to do."
+
+"I shall go to the Cafe Montmartre myself to-night. At such a place
+there must be hangers-on and parasites who see something of the game. I
+shall try to come into touch with them. I am rich enough to outbid the
+others who exact their silence."
+
+"You must be rich enough to buy their lives then," Spencer answered
+gravely, "for if you do succeed in tempting any one to betray the inner
+happenings of that place on which the seal of silence has been put, you
+will hear of them in the Morgue before a fortnight has passed."
+
+"They must take their risk," Duncombe said coldly. "I am going to stuff
+my pockets with money to-night, and I shall bid high. I shall leave word
+at the hotel where I am going. If anything happens to me there--well, I
+don't think the Cafe Montmartre will flourish afterwards."
+
+"Duncombe," his friend said gravely, "nothing will happen to you at the
+Cafe Montmartre. Nothing ever does happen to any one there. You remember
+poor De Laurson?"
+
+"Quite well. He was stabbed by a girl in the Rue Pigalle."
+
+"He was stabbed in the Cafe Montmartre, but his body was found in the
+Rue Pigalle. Then there was the Vicomte de Sauvinac."
+
+"He was found dead in his study--poisoned."
+
+"He was found there--yes, but the poison was given to him in the Cafe
+Montmartre, and it was there that he died. I am behind the scenes in
+some of these matters, but I know enough to hold my tongue, or my London
+letter wouldn't be worth a pound a week. I am giving myself away to you
+now, Duncombe. I am risking a position which it has taken me twenty
+years to secure. I've got to tell you these things, and you must do as I
+tell you. Go back to London!"
+
+Duncombe laughed as he rose to his feet.
+
+"Not though the Vicomte's fate is to be mine to-night," he answered.
+"The worse hell this place is the worse the crew it must shelter. I
+should never hold my head up again if I sneaked off home and left the
+girl in their hands. I don't see how you can even suggest it."
+
+"Only because you can't do the least good," Spencer answered. "And
+besides, don't run away with a false impression. The place is dangerous
+only for certain people. The authorities don't protect murderers or
+thieves except under special circumstances. The Vicomte's murderer and
+De Laurson's were brought to justice. Only they keep the name of the
+place out of it always. Tourists in shoals visit it, and visit safely
+every evening. They pay fancy prices for what they have, but I think
+they get their money's worth. But for certain classes of people it is
+the decoy house of Europe. Foreign spies have babbled away their secrets
+there, and the greatest criminals of the world have whispered away their
+lives to some fair daughter of Judas at those tables. I, who am behind
+the scenes, tell you these things, Duncombe."
+
+Duncombe smiled.
+
+"To-morrow," he said, "you may add another victim to your chamber of
+horrors!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+DUNCOMBE'S "HOLD-UP"
+
+
+The amber wine fell in a little wavering stream from his upraised glass
+on to the table-cloth below. He leaned back in his chair and gazed at
+his three guests with a fatuous smile. The girl in blue, with the
+dazzlingly fair hair and wonderful complexion, steadied his hand and
+exchanged a meaning look with the man who sat opposite. Surely the poor
+fool was ready for the plucking? But Madame, who sat beside her, frowned
+upon them both. She had seen things which had puzzled her. She signed to
+them to wait.
+
+She leaned over and flashed her great black eyes upon him.
+
+"Monsieur enjoys himself like this every night in Paris?"
+
+A soft, a very seductive, voice. The woman who envied her success
+compared it to the purring of a cat. Men as a rule found no fault with
+it, especially those who heard it for the first time.
+
+Duncombe set down his glass, now almost empty. He looked from the stain
+on the table-cloth into the eyes of Madame, and again she thought them
+very unlike the eyes of a drunken man.
+
+"Why not? It's the one city in the world to enjoy one's self in.
+Half-past four, and here we are as jolly as anything. Chucked out of
+everywhere in London at half-past twelve. 'Time, gentlemen, please!'
+And out go the lights. Jove, I wonder what they'd think of this at the
+Continental! Let's--let's have another bottle."
+
+The fair-haired girl--Flossie to her friends, Mademoiselle Mermillon
+until you had been introduced--whispered in his ear. He shook his head
+vaguely. She had her arm round his neck. He removed it gently.
+
+"We'll have another here first anyhow," he declared. "Hi, Garcon! Ring
+the bell, there's a good chap, Monsieur--dash it, I've forgotten your
+name. No, don't move. I'll do it myself."
+
+He rose and staggered towards the door.
+
+"The bell isn't that way, Monsieur," Madame exclaimed. "It is to the
+right. Louis, quick!"
+
+Monsieur Louis sprang to his feet. There was a queer grating little
+sound, followed by a sharp click. Duncombe had swung round and faced
+them. He had turned the key in the door, and was calmly pocketing it.
+The hand which held that small shining revolver was certainly not the
+hand of a drunken man.
+
+They all three looked at him in wonder--Madame, Monsieur Louis, and
+Mademoiselle Flossie. The dark eyebrows of Madame almost met, and her
+eyes were full of the promise of evil things. Monsieur Louis, cowering
+back from that steadily pointed revolver, was white with the inherited
+cowardice of the degenerate. Flossie, who had drunk more wine than any
+of them, was trying to look as though it were a joke. Duncombe, with his
+disordered evening clothes, his stained shirt-front and errant tie, was
+master of the situation. He came and stood a few feet away from them.
+His blundering French accent and slow choice of words had departed. He
+spoke to them without hesitation, and his French was almost as good as
+their own.
+
+"I want you to keep your places," he said, "and listen to me for a few
+minutes. I can assure you I am neither mad nor drunk. I have a few
+questions to ask you, and if your answers are satisfactory you may yet
+find my acquaintance as profitable as though I had been the pigeon I
+seemed. Keep your seat, Monsieur le Baron!"
+
+Monsieur Louis, who had half risen, sat down again hastily. They all
+watched him from their places around the table. It was Madame whom he
+addressed more directly--Madame with the jet black hair and golden
+earrings, the pale cheeks and scarlet lips.
+
+"I invited you into a private room here," he said, "because what I have
+said to you three is between ourselves alone. You came, I presume,
+because it promised to be profitable. All that I want from you is
+information. And for that I am willing to pay."
+
+Monsieur Louis interposed. He stroked his little black moustache with a
+much beringed hand. With the other he gesticulated.
+
+"Monsieur talks reasonably," he declared, "but why all this mystery? Why
+this feigned drunkenness? Why the show of arms? If we can help
+Monsieur--it is an affair of pleasure, and if he chooses to make a
+present to these ladies in return--why, no doubt they will be charmed.
+Me, I presume, he has no intention to insult. Permit me, Monsieur."
+
+He drew a card from a small gold case, and presented it to Duncombe, who
+accepted it with a little bow.
+
+"If I can aid you in any way," Monsieur Louis continued, "I am entirely
+at your service, but I require first of all that in addressing us you
+recognize my position as a French nobleman, who amuses himself in this
+place as you, Monsieur, also do, and also that you unlock that door."
+
+Duncombe smiled quietly.
+
+"Monsieur le Baron," he said, "I think that we are very well as we
+are--secure from interruption. I have sent others here on this same
+mission, and they did not succeed. Both of these ladies, I believe, have
+been approached for the information I desire, and they have thought well
+to withhold it. I have set my heart upon success this time, and I wish
+to secure at least the opportunity of being heard."
+
+Monsieur Louis shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"There are secrets," he murmured; "affairs of honor----"
+
+Duncombe interrupted him.
+
+"Monsieur Louis," he said, "I am not so young as I look, and I have
+lived in Paris. I know that this cafe, for all its outward smartness,
+bears perhaps the worst reputation in Europe. I have heard of you three
+many times--the 'Trinity from Hell,' they call you sometimes, I think.
+You see I know where I am and the risk I run. Even this little room has
+its secrets--a murder or two, I believe, and other things--secrets which
+I don't suppose there is gold enough in France to buy. Well, I don't
+want to buy them. You can go your way so far as I am concerned. There is
+only one thing I want to know from you, and for that I offer you--the
+ladies, of course, I mean--five thousand francs each."
+
+"Five thousand francs!" Madame murmured.
+
+Mademoiselle Flossie said nothing, but her eyes shone.
+
+"The question, Monsieur?"
+
+"What has become of Mademoiselle Phyllis Poynton, the young English
+lady?"
+
+The eyes of Madame seemed to narrow for a moment. Monsieur Louis lit a
+cigarette with fingers which shook a little, and the fair face of
+Mademoiselle Flossie was suddenly white. Then they all three looked at
+one another.
+
+"Do you know whom Monsieur may mean?"
+
+"Not I!"
+
+"An English girl! There are none come here."
+
+"Mademoiselle Poynton! It is a name unheard of."
+
+The young Englishman smiled upon them grimly.
+
+"Madame," he said, "you have in your satchel--don't move, if you
+please--a roll of French notes--indeed you must not move--very cleverly
+abstracted from my pocket by my charming young companion, Mademoiselle
+Flossie here. Now I have at least half a dozen friends in the cafe below
+whom I could summon here by touching that bell, and the identification
+of those notes would be a perfectly simple matter. Shall I do it? Or
+will you earn another roll by giving me the information I seek?"
+
+Madame leaned forward and whispered in the man's ear. Monsieur Louis
+nodded.
+
+"Tell him," Mademoiselle Flossie murmured tremulously. "Monsieur will
+not break faith with us. He will not let it be known from whence he
+gained the knowledge."
+
+"Agreed!" the young Englishman declared. "Go on."
+
+Madame held up her hand.
+
+"I," she said, "will tell Monsieur what we know."
+
+She rose to her feet and leaned over the table. The blue-black sequins
+on her dress glittered and shone in the dull light. Her figure was
+superb, her neck and bosom a flawless white. The Englishman, however,
+was unmoved. His keen gray eyes were fixed upon her, but the revolver
+remained in his right hand. From downstairs they could hear the music of
+violins, the rattle of glasses, the hum of voices and laughter. Madame
+frowned slightly as she marked the young Englishman's alertness. She was
+used to victims, and his imperturbability annoyed her.
+
+"I trust," she said, "that you will remember, Monsieur, that I am
+breaking a pledged word. If Monsieur the Director here knew that I was
+telling you of Mademoiselle Poynton there would be much trouble for all
+of us."
+
+Duncombe nodded.
+
+"Go on," he said.
+
+"Mademoiselle came here first about a month or perhaps six weeks ago,"
+she said. "From that time on she was a regular visitor. She came alone.
+She spoke to no one. She was always a mystery. She was very handsomely
+dressed--for an English girl, quite chic! She spent money, and Monsieur
+Albert the director kept always a table for her. As time went on we
+began to feel the mystery. We asked ourselves for what purpose does she
+come here? For what, indeed!
+
+"One night Monsieur Albert, who was always besieged with questions about
+her, took too much wine. I have seen that happen with him but
+once--since that time never. He told us about Mademoiselle. She made
+some inquiries about her brother, and Monsieur Albert was able to tell
+her his whereabouts. After that he scarcely expected to see her again,
+but the next night she was here also.
+
+"Then Monsieur Albert learned more. Mademoiselle was in a small way an
+artist, and she had conceived the idea of painting a picture of the
+cafe--an early morning picture of effects, Monsieur understands. There
+was to be the morning sunlight streaming across the supper-tables, the
+faces of all of us aged and haggard. Monsieur Louis here, without doubt,
+a very child of the devil! Oh, a very moral picture, Monsieur. It was to
+convert us all. Monsieur Albert declared that he would arrange to have
+it here on exhibition, and we should all mend our ways. Monsieur knew
+perhaps that the young lady was an artist?"
+
+The question was flashed suddenly upon him as though the intention was
+to take him by surprise. Duncombe, however, remained unmoved.
+
+"I am here, Madame, to ask, not to answer, questions," he said. "Will
+you kindly proceed? I am greatly interested."
+
+Madame put her hand to her throat for a moment as though to loosen her
+necklace. She had not the appearance of being greatly in love with her
+questioner.
+
+"There came a night," she continued, "when Mademoiselle broke through
+her rule. A man came in and sat at her table. His name was the Vicomte
+D'Aubarde, and he was known to most of us, though to the young lady he
+appeared to be a stranger. They talked earnestly for an hour or more.
+When she left--he accompanied her!"
+
+The Englishman had grown paler. Madame saw it and smiled. Her lover
+perhaps! It was good to make him suffer.
+
+"Flossie here," she continued, "was outside, and saw them depart. They
+drove off together in the Vicomte's coupe. They were apparently on the
+best of terms. Since then we have not seen her again--nor the Vicomte.
+Monsieur knows now as much as we know."
+
+"And how long ago is that?" Duncombe asked quietly.
+
+"A week to-night," Madame replied.
+
+Duncombe laid down a roll of notes upon the table.
+
+"I wish," he said, "to prove to you that I am in earnest. I am therefore
+going to pay you the amount I promised, although I am perfectly well
+aware that the story of Madame is--false!"
+
+"Monsieur!"
+
+"As I remarked," he repeated, "false. Now listen to me. I want to tempt
+one of you, I don't care which, to break through this thieves' compact
+of yours. I have paid a thousand francs for lies--I will pay ten
+thousand francs for truth! Ten thousand francs for the present
+whereabouts of Mademoiselle Phyllis Poynton!"
+
+Mademoiselle Flossie looked up at him quickly. Then she glanced
+furtively at Madame, and the flash of Madame's eyes was like lightning
+upon blue steel. Duncombe moved towards the door.
+
+"I will pay the bill downstairs," he said. "Good night! Think over what
+I have said. Ten thousand francs!"
+
+Monsieur Louis stood up and bowed stiffly. Mademoiselle Flossie
+ventured to throw him a kiss. Madame smiled inscrutably.
+
+The door closed. They heard him go downstairs. Madame picked up his card
+and read aloud.
+
+        Sir George Duncombe,
+                         Risley Hall,
+                                    Norfolk.
+
+    Grand Hotel, Paris.
+
+"If one could only," Madame murmured, "tell him the truth, collect the
+money--and----"
+
+"And," Flossie murmured, half fearfully.
+
+Monsieur le Baron smiled!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+THE STORY OF A CALL
+
+
+Mademoiselle Mermillon was not warmly welcomed at the Grand Hotel. The
+porter believed that Sir George Duncombe was out. He would inquire, if
+Mademoiselle would wait, but he did not usher her into the drawing-room,
+as would have been his duty in an ordinary case, or even ask her to take
+a seat.
+
+Mademoiselle Mermillon was of the order of young person who resents, but
+this afternoon she was far too nervous. During the porter's temporary
+absence she started at every footstep, and scrutinized anxiously every
+passer-by. Often she looked behind her through the glass doors into the
+street. When at last he reappeared alone her disappointment was obvious.
+
+"Sir George Duncombe is out, Mademoiselle," he announced. "Will you be
+pleased to leave a message, or your name?"
+
+"You do not know how long he will be?" she inquired.
+
+"Sir George left no word," the man answered. "He has been out since
+before _dejeuner_."
+
+Mademoiselle decided to leave a note. The porter supplied her with
+notepaper and envelopes. She sat down at a small round table, and once
+more glanced furtively around. Convinced that she was not being watched,
+she hastily wrote a few lines, sealed and addressed the envelope, and
+handed it to the porter.
+
+"You will give this to Sir George immediately he returns," she begged.
+"It is important."
+
+"Monsieur shall have it without doubt, Mademoiselle," the man answered.
+
+She pulled down her veil and left the place hurriedly. When she reached
+the boulevard she slackened her pace, and drew a little breath of
+relief.
+
+"Ten thousand francs!" she murmured to herself. "If I took that with me
+they would receive me at home. I might start all over again. It is worth
+a little risk. Heavens, how nervous I am!"
+
+She entered a cafe and drank _a petit verre_. As she set her glass down
+a man looked at her over the top of his newspaper. She tried to smile,
+but her heart was beating, and she was sick with fear.
+
+"What a fool I am!" she muttered. "It is a stranger, too. If he were one
+of Gustav's lot I should know him."
+
+She returned his smile, and he came and sat down beside her. They had
+another liqueur. Later they left the place together.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Duncombe returned to his hotel tired out after a disappointing day spent
+in making fruitless inquiries in various parts of Paris. He had learnt
+nothing. He seemed as far off the truth as ever. He opened the note
+which the porter handed him listlessly enough. Afterwards, however, it
+was different. This is what he read:--
+
+     "I can tell you about the young English lady if you will
+     promise upon your honor that you will not betray me. I dare
+     not come here again. I dare not even speak to you while the
+     others are about. Go to the Cafe Sylvain to-night and order
+     dinner in a private room. I will come at half-past
+     seven.--FLOSSIE."
+
+Duncombe drew a little sigh of relief. At last then he was to know
+something. He was very English, a bad amateur detective, and very weary
+of his task. Nothing but his intense interest in the girl herself--an
+interest which seemed to have upset the whole tenor of his life--would
+have kept him here plodding so relentlessly away at a task which seemed
+daily to present more difficulties and complications. Yet so absorbed
+had he become that the ordinary duties and pleasures which made up the
+routine of his life scarcely ever entered into his mind. There had been
+men coming down to shoot, whom in an ordinary way he would not have
+dreamed of putting off--a cricket match which had been postponed until
+his return, and which he had completely forgotten. Paris had nothing in
+the shape of amusement to offer him in place of these things, yet in his
+own mind these things were as if they had not been. Every interest and
+energy of his life was concentrated upon the one simple object of his
+search.
+
+He gave the man half a crown, and walked to the lift whistling. The
+porter shook his head, and Duncombe receded considerably in his
+estimation, notwithstanding the tip. He considered Mademoiselle Flossie
+a little obvious for a gentleman of Duncombe's class. Duncombe treated
+himself to a cocktail and a cigarette as he changed his clothes. It was
+positively the first gleam of hope he had had. And then suddenly he
+remembered Spencer's warning, and he became grave.
+
+He was at the Cafe Sylvain early. He ordered dinner, gave elaborate
+instructions about a young lady when she arrived, and with a glass of
+absinthe and another cigarette sat down to wait. At a quarter to eight
+he began to get restless. He summoned the waiter again, and gave a more
+detailed description of Mademoiselle Flossie. The waiter was regretful
+but positive. No young lady of any description had arrived expecting to
+meet a gentleman in a private room. Duncombe tried him with her name.
+But yes, Mademoiselle Mermillon was exceedingly well known there! He
+would give orders that she should be shown up immediately she arrived.
+It would be soon, without doubt.
+
+At a quarter-past eight Duncombe dined alone, too disappointed to resent
+the waiter's sympathetic attitude. At nine o'clock he returned to the
+hotel on the chance that a message might have been sent there. He read
+the English newspapers, and wrote letters until midnight. Then he
+ordered a carriage and drove to the Cafe Montmartre.
+
+He mounted the stairs and passed through the little bar which led into
+the supper-room. Monsieur Albert came forward with a low bow.
+
+"You can find me a table, I suppose?" Duncombe remarked, looking round.
+"Where shall I sit?"
+
+Monsieur Albert shook his head slowly. His hands were outstretched, his
+manner sad, but resigned.
+
+"I am very sorry, Monsieur, but to-night every place is taken. I have
+had to turn others away already," he declared. "A thousand regrets."
+
+Duncombe looked at him astonished. The place was more than half empty.
+
+"Surely you can find me a small table somewhere," he said. "I was here
+last evening, you know. If it is because I am alone I will order supper
+for two and a magnum of wine."
+
+Monsieur Albert was immovable. He remembered Duncombe well, and he was
+proud of his patronage, but to-night it was impossible to offer him a
+table. Duncombe began to be annoyed.
+
+"Very well," he said, "I will stay in the bar. You can't turn me out of
+there, can you?"
+
+Monsieur Albert was evasive. He desired Monsieur Duncombe to be amused,
+and the people who remained in the bar--well, it was not possible to get
+rid of them, but they were not fitting company for him.
+
+"There is the Cafe Mazarin," he added confidentially, "a few steps only
+from here--a most amusing place. The most wonderful ladies there, too,
+very chic, and crowded every night! Monsieur should really try it. The
+commissionaire would direct him--a few yards only."
+
+"Much obliged to you," Duncombe answered, turning on his heel. "I may
+look in there presently."
+
+He seated himself at a small round table and ordered a drink. The people
+here were of a slightly different class from those who had the _entree_
+to the supper-room and were mostly crowded round the bar itself. At a
+small desk within a few feet of him a middle-aged woman with a cold,
+hard face sat with a book of account before her and a pile of bills.
+There was something almost Sphynx-like about her appearance. She never
+spoke. Her expression never changed. Once their eyes met. She looked at
+him steadfastly, but said nothing. The girl behind the bar also took
+note of him. She was very tall and slim, absolutely colorless, and with
+coils of fair hair drawn tightly back from her forehead. She was never
+without a cigarette, lighting a fresh one always from its predecessor,
+talking all the while unceasingly, but without the slightest change of
+expression. Once she waved the men and girls who stood talking to her on
+one side, and Duncombe fancied that it was because she desired a better
+view of him.
+
+Suddenly he was startled by a voice close at hand. He looked up. The
+woman at the desk was speaking to him.
+
+"Monsieur would be well advised," she said, "if he departed."
+
+Duncombe looked at her in amazement. She was writing rapidly in her
+book, and her eyes were fixed upon her work. If he had not actually
+heard her, it would have been hard to believe that she had spoken.
+
+"But why, Madame?" he asked. "Why should I go? I am in no one's way. I
+can pay for what I have."
+
+She dipped her pen in the ink.
+
+"I know nothing of Monsieur or his business," she said, still without
+even glancing towards him, "but I know that Monsieur Albert does not
+wish him to remain."
+
+"The devil take Monsieur Albert!" Duncombe answered angrily. "I am
+waiting to speak to some one who comes here regularly, and I shall stay
+until she comes."
+
+The woman wrote steadily for a moment. Then she blotted the page on
+which she had been writing, and raising her head, looked at him.
+
+"It is no affair of mine," she said, "but Monsieur Albert has sent for
+the police. They may say that you have had too much wine, or that you
+owe money. In either case you will be removed. The police will not
+listen to you. Monsieur Albert has special discretion. It is no affair
+of mine," she repeated, "but if I were Monsieur I would go."
+
+Duncombe rose slowly to his feet, and summoning a waiter paid his bill.
+The man produced a second one, dated a few days back, for a large
+amount.
+
+"What is the meaning of this?" he asked. "I do not owe you anything."
+
+"Monsieur was here with a party last Thursday night," he said glibly.
+"He promised to pay the next time. I will call the manager."
+
+Duncombe tore the bill in half and turned away. He bowed to the lady at
+the desk.
+
+"I see that you were right," he said. "I will leave."
+
+"Monsieur is wise," she answered without looking up.
+
+He left the cafe without speaking to any one further. When he reached
+the pavement he slipped a five-franc piece into the hand of the tall
+commissionaire.
+
+"You know most of the young ladies who come here, I suppose?" he asked.
+
+"But certainly!" the man answered with a smile, "Monsieur desires?"
+
+"I want the address of a young lady named Mermillon--Flossie, I think
+they call her," Duncombe said.
+
+"Thirty-one, Rue Pigalle," the man answered promptly. "But she should be
+here within an hour. She never misses."
+
+Duncombe thanked him, and hailed a carriage.
+
+"Shall I give Mademoiselle any message?" the man asked confidentially.
+
+"I am going to call for her," Duncombe answered. "If I do not find her I
+will return."
+
+To drive to the Rue Pigalle was an affair of five minutes only. Duncombe
+climbed a couple of flights of narrow stairs, pushed open a swing gate,
+and found himself in front of an office, in which an elderly woman sat
+reading.
+
+"Can you tell me where to find Mademoiselle Mermillon?" Duncombe asked.
+
+"Next floor; first door on the left," the woman answered. "Mademoiselle
+is not often in at this hour, though."
+
+Duncombe thanked her, and climbed another flight of stairs. He had to
+strike a match to look for a bell or knocker, and then found neither. He
+knocked on the door with his knuckles. There was no reply. He was on the
+point of departure, when he noticed that the door was ajar. After a
+moment's hesitation he pushed it open.
+
+He found himself in a narrow passage, with dresses and other articles of
+apparel hanging from a row of pegs on the wall. The place was in
+complete darkness. He struck another match. At the end of the passage
+was an inner door, also ajar. He rapped upon it, and finally pushed it
+open. Just then his match went out!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+SPENCER'S SURPRISE
+
+
+Duncombe had the nerves and temperament of the young Englishman of his
+class, whose life is mostly spent out of doors, and who has been an
+athlete all his days. But nevertheless at that moment he was afraid.
+Something in the stillness of the room oppressed him. He could see
+nothing, hear nothing except the clock ticking upon the mantlepiece. And
+yet he was afraid.
+
+He fumbled desperately in his pocket for his matchbox. When he had found
+it he discovered that it was empty. With a sense of positive relief he
+backed out of the room and hastily descended the stairs. The old lady
+was still in her sitting-room reading the paper. She set it down at his
+entrance, and looked at him over the top of her spectacles.
+
+"Pardon, Madame," he said, removing his hat, "I find the rooms of
+Mademoiselle are open, but all is in darkness. I cannot make any one
+hear."
+
+Madame took up her paper.
+
+"Then Mademoiselle is probably out," she declared. "It is generally so
+at this hour. Monsieur can leave his name."
+
+"But the doors are all open!" Duncombe said.
+
+"I go presently and close them," Madame answered. "The careless hussy!"
+
+Duncombe produced a small piece of gold. Madame laid down the paper at
+once. She looked at it as though ready to snatch it from his hand.
+
+"Madame would oblige me very much if she would ascend with me at once,"
+Duncombe said. "I should like to make quite sure whether the young lady
+is there or not."
+
+Madame was on her feet with remarkable celerity. She accepted the coin
+and carefully placed it in a purse drawn from somewhere amongst the
+folds of her voluminous skirts.
+
+"We shall need a candle," Duncombe reminded her.
+
+She lit a lamp, talking all the while.
+
+"Monsieur is very generous," she declared. "Mademoiselle Flossie is a
+charming young lady. No wonder she has many friends. There was one," she
+continued, "who came here with her this afternoon--but he left almost at
+once," she added hastily, aware of her indiscretion. "Ah, these stairs!
+They grow steeper for one so corpulent. At last!"
+
+She pushed open the door and went sideways down the narrow passage.
+Directly they had entered it they had a view of the room beyond. Madame
+cried out, and Duncombe felt all his vague fears spring into a terrified
+apprehension of actual evil.
+
+The curtain before the window had been hastily drawn, but the lamp which
+the portress carried was sufficient feebly to illuminate the room. The
+table-cloth and a broken vase lay upon the floor. A few feet off was an
+overturned chair. Upon the canopied bed lay a prostrate figure, the head
+thrown back at an unnatural angle, the eyes open but glazed. Duncombe
+dared do no more than cast one single horrified glance at it. Madame set
+down the lamp upon the table, and made the room hideous with shrieks.
+
+"Good God!" she cried. "It is the little one who is dead!"
+
+Duncombe himself fetched in the gendarmes, and waited whilst they took
+voluminous notes of the occurrence. The murder seemed to them and to
+Madame to be one of a very common class. The assassin had left no clue
+whatever behind him. The poor girl's rings had been torn from her
+fingers, her little stock of jewellery ransacked, her purse was empty,
+everything of value had been taken. There was not a shred of evidence
+against any one. Madame, who had seen the man upon the stairs, could
+only say that he was short, and wore a black felt hat. The officer who
+took down what they had to say shrugged his shoulders as he replaced the
+book in his pocket. The affair would pass most certainly, he feared,
+into the long list of undiscoverable crimes.
+
+Duncombe left his name and address, and enough money for the funeral.
+Then he returned to his hotel. This was the end, then, of the clue from
+which he had hoped so much. Spencer's warning as to what would surely
+happen to those whom he might succeed in bribing came back into his mind
+with sickening insistence. In a measure he was responsible for the
+girl's death. After all, what chance had he? He was fighting against
+powers which, moving always in the darkness, seemed able with the most
+ridiculous ease to frustrate his every move. He re-entered the hotel in
+a state of complete nervous depression. For the first time he had
+forebodings on his own account. What had happened to Mademoiselle
+Flossie might happen so easily to himself.
+
+A man rose quickly from the lounge in the hotel as he entered. Duncombe
+greeted him with a little expression of wonder.
+
+"Spencer!" he exclaimed. "Were you waiting to see me?"
+
+The journalist nodded. He was not in evening dress, and he too had the
+appearance of a man who has received something of a shock.
+
+"Yes. The cafe is closed, I suppose. Let us go down into the smoke-room.
+I want to talk to you."
+
+Duncombe led the way. They found two easy-chairs, and despatched a
+waiter for whiskies and soda. Then Spencer turned to his friend.
+
+"Have you met," he asked, "with any success?"
+
+"None!" Duncombe answered gloomily.
+
+"I have something to tell you," Spencer continued. "No, it is not good
+news," he added hastily. "It is more a personal matter. It is of
+something which has happened to myself."
+
+Duncombe sighed.
+
+"Go on!" he said.
+
+"For twenty-two and a half years," Spencer said, "I have lived in Paris
+as the correspondent to various English journals. I have made many
+friends, and it has been considered amongst all my fellow journalists
+that I had the ear of more influential people in politics and society
+here than any other writer. To-day I have resigned my position!"
+
+Duncombe managed to summon up enough interest to be surprised.
+
+"I had no idea," he said, "that you were contemplating anything of the
+sort."
+
+"I was not!" Spencer answered grimly. "I am as much surprised myself as
+all my friends will be."
+
+Duncombe was puzzled.
+
+"I am afraid I don't quite understand," he said. "You can't mean that
+your people----"
+
+"No! My people have nothing to do with it," Spencer answered. "I have
+had the sack, but not from them. It is Paris which will have no more of
+me. I live here, of course, on my faculties for obtaining information,
+and my _entree_ into political and social life. To-day the Minister of
+Police has declined to receive me, or at any future time--my cards of
+entry into the chamber and half a dozen places have been revoked, my
+name has been expunged from the visiting list of the President, and
+practically of every other person of importance. All that I may see of
+Paris now is from the outside. And there is no appeal!"
+
+"But what is the reason of it, Spencer? What have you done? How have you
+offended all these people?"
+
+Spencer hesitated.
+
+"I don't want you to blame yourself in any way, Duncombe," he said. "You
+could not possibly have guessed the sort of thing you were up against.
+But the fact remains that my offence is in having sent my friends to the
+Cafe Montmartre on your account, and in being suspected of rendering you
+further assistance in your search for those two marvellous young English
+people!"
+
+"You are not joking by any chance, are you?" Duncombe asked gravely.
+
+"The matter," Spencer replied, "does not appear to me to lend itself to
+anything of the sort."
+
+Duncombe buried his head in his hands for several moments.
+
+"Great Heavens!" he murmured. "Let me think! I can't tell you how sorry
+I am, old chap. Can't the thing be explained? As a matter of fact, you
+were discretion itself."
+
+"I don't want it explained," Spencer said, "even if it would do any
+good--which it wouldn't! I should have retired in any case in less than
+a year, and, as it is, I believe my successor is on his way over
+already. Now would you like to know why I have come here at this hour of
+the night to tell you this?"
+
+Duncombe nodded.
+
+"Go on!" he said. "Afterwards I've something to tell you."
+
+"I've come," Spencer said, "because I'm free now, if you like, to help
+you. I was interested in your story before. I am ten times more
+interested in it now. If you still want me I'll do what I can for you."
+
+"Want you! Spencer, do you mean it?" Duncombe exclaimed. "Want you! Why,
+there's no one I'd rather interest in the affair than you."
+
+"Well, I can promise you my interest is pretty well excited already,"
+Spencer answered. "I'm with you right along. Now tell me where you've
+been this evening, and what's happened."
+
+Duncombe recounted the evening's events. His new ally listened and
+afterwards smoked for a moment or two in silence.
+
+"It is simply wonderful," he declared. "The whole secret-service system
+of Paris is working to cover up the traces of this boy and girl. Their
+spies, of course, are everywhere, and their organization perfect. The
+first one of their creatures who tries to break away is Mademoiselle
+Flossie. The poor little fool lived for only a few hours afterwards.
+Your bribe was high, but she ought to have known better."
+
+"You mean----"
+
+"Why, of course! The theft of her poor little jewels was only a blind.
+It was to deceive the public, for, as a matter of fact, her murderer
+would have been perfectly safe if he had strolled into the nearest
+police station and made his report. She was killed because she was going
+to give you certain information."
+
+Duncombe shuddered.
+
+"Great Heaven!" he exclaimed. "Tell me, Spencer, who or what can be at
+the back of all this? Guy Poynton was simply a healthy-minded, not
+over-intelligent, young Saxon, unambitious, and passionately fond of his
+home and his country life. He had no friends over here, no interests, no
+ties of any sort. He was abroad for the first time of his life. He
+regarded foreign countries and people simply with the tolerant curiosity
+of the untravelled Britisher. He appears in Paris for one night and
+disappears, and forthwith all the genius of French espionage seems to
+have combined to cover up his traces. It is the same with his sister,
+only as she came afterwards it was evidently on his account that she
+also is drawn into the mystery. What can be the meaning of it, Spencer?"
+
+"My young friend," Spencer said, "I will be frank with you. I have not
+the least idea! I only know that somehow or other you're up against a
+big thing. In a week--perhaps a day--I may know more. Meanwhile I want
+you to go on your way precisely as though you and I had not discussed
+this matter."
+
+"We may not work together then?" Duncombe asked.
+
+"Certainly not! You are a marked man everywhere. Every door is closed to
+you. I shall nominally stick to my post. You must be content to be the
+actual looker-on, though you had better not abandon your inquiries
+altogether. I will put you up at the Cercle Anglais. It will serve to
+pass the time, and you may gain information at the most unlikely places.
+And now good-bye."
+
+The liftman thrust a pencilled note into Duncombe's hand as he ascended
+to his room.
+
+"From I do not know whom, Monsieur," he announced. "It was left here by
+some one! Whom I cannot say."
+
+Duncombe opened it in his dressing-room. There was only one sentence:--
+
+     "Monsieur would be well advised to leave Paris to-night."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+A WORD OF WARNING
+
+
+"In the most unlikely places!" Duncombe murmured to himself as he bowed
+to the Frenchman, whose name his friend had mentioned. "I am very glad
+to meet you again, Monsieur le Baron!" he said, aloud.
+
+They were in the covered garden at the Ritz. Duncombe had accepted the
+pressing invitation of an old college friend, whom he had met on the
+boulevards to drop in and be introduced to his wife. And the third at
+the tea-table was Monsieur Louis, known in society apparently as
+Monsieur le Baron de Seurs.
+
+Lady Hadley, his friend's wife, smiled languidly upon them both. She was
+a frail pink and white little woman, with the reputation of a beauty to
+sustain, wherein lay her life's work.
+
+"You two know one another, of course!" she remarked. "Paris is no larger
+than London, after all."
+
+"Sir George and I have met once at least," the Baron said, smiling. "I
+am glad that he does me the honor of remembering the occasion."
+
+Duncombe felt himself no match for his companion with the foils. He let
+the conversation drift, and waited for his opportunity. Presently some
+more guests arrived, and Duncombe drew his host on one side.
+
+"Hadley," he said, "how long have you known the Baron?"
+
+"Met him at Dorset House about two years ago, I think," Hadley answered.
+"He was doing a round of country-houses. I'm not sure that he didn't
+stay at Sandringham. One of the real old French families, you know, De
+Seurs."
+
+Duncombe nodded. There did not seem to be much that he could say. He
+mingled with the other guests, and observed his social duties. But he
+watched the Baron, and he took care that they left together.
+
+"Are you going my way, Baron?" he asked, as they stepped into the Place
+Vendome.
+
+"I was going to the Cercle Anglais," the Baron answered. "Do you
+belong?"
+
+"I am up for a month's membership, but I am not elected yet," Duncombe
+answered.
+
+"Then you shall come in as my guest," the Baron declared.
+
+"You are exceedingly kind," Duncombe answered. "I wonder whether I might
+presume still further upon your good nature and ask you a question."
+
+"The asking," the Baron murmured, "involves nothing."
+
+"You bear, I am told, an honored name, and you are well received in
+society. Why do you associate with murderers and thieves in that hell of
+a cafe where I saw you first?"
+
+The Baron smiled.
+
+"My friend," he said, "I seek always the life amusing, and I find it
+there."
+
+"I was robbed before your eyes, Baron."
+
+The Frenchman sighed.
+
+"I am so sorry," he said, "that I did not see it. That indeed would have
+been amusing."
+
+"You know that the young lady who sat with us is dead?"
+
+"A most bizarre happening," the Baron assented with a little sigh. "I
+cannot imagine how it occurred. The newspaper reports are not
+convincing. One would like to reconstruct the story. Poor little
+Flossie! She was most amusing, but just a little, a very little, too
+fond of flourishing her jewellery. One will miss her, though."
+
+"Referring for one moment to our meeting at the cafe. You told me a
+story there--you and your friend Madame--of a young English lady--which
+the facts seem scarcely to sustain."
+
+The Baron sighed.
+
+"My friend," he said, "we did the best we could at a moment's notice. I
+rather fancied the story myself. As to facts--what have they to do with
+it? You demanded a story, and you got it. I rather flattered myself that
+under the circumstances it was not bad."
+
+"You admit now, then, that it was not the truth!"
+
+"The truth! My dear Sir George! Supposing that the whereabouts of your
+charming young friend had been known to me, do you suppose that I should
+have permitted myself to be bullied into disclosing it? Forgive me if I
+speak plainly, but if you really wished for information which you
+supposed that I had, your method of seeking it put you at once out of
+court. A French gentleman does not permit himself to be bullied."
+
+Duncombe was silent for several moments. There were many things which he
+could have said, but where was the use?
+
+"As a French gentleman, then," he said at last, "will you permit me to
+make a personal appeal to you? Miss Phyllis Poynton is a young lady in
+whom I am deeply interested. She was last seen at the Cafe Montmartre,
+from which place she disappeared. I am an Englishman of your own
+station. Tell me where I can find her, or what has become of her."
+
+"My dear Sir George," the Baron said, "you might have saved yourself a
+great deal of trouble if you had spoken like this to me at the first.
+Frankly, then, I have not the least idea. Young English ladies come and
+go every evening at the Cafe Montmartre, and such places. One remembers
+only those who happen to have amused one, and not always those. Forgive
+me if I speak plainly. A young lady who had visited the Cafe Montmartre
+alone--well, you might look for her anywhere, but most assuredly in that
+case if your anxiety was to induce her to return to her friends, you
+would be a little too late. Ah! We have arrived. Now, my friend, I must
+make you free of the place."
+
+Duncombe was fuming with anger, but he had discretion enough to remain
+silent.
+
+"Do you play Bridge?" the Baron asked, as they entered the card-room.
+
+"Occasionally," Duncombe assented.
+
+"I will go and see if I can find any men," the Baron remarked. "I will
+leave my young friend De Bergillac to entertain you. The Vicomte de
+Bergillac--Sir George Duncombe."
+
+Duncombe shook hands with a pale, weary-looking youth, whose whole
+appearance was distinguished by marked symptoms of lassitude and
+ill-health. They sat in easy-chairs almost opposite to one another, and
+Duncombe found the other's scrutiny almost embarrassing.
+
+"You speak French, perhaps--yes?" the young man asked at length.
+
+"Yes! I speak French," Duncombe admitted.
+
+"Then listen to me," the Vicomte said slowly. "I speak as one man of
+honor to another. Do not play cards in this club!"
+
+"Not play cards? Why not?" Duncombe asked, amazed.
+
+"You can take my advice or leave it," the Vicomte answered calmly. "I
+have no explanation to offer you. If you chose to repeat my remark you
+would place me in an exceedingly awkward position. You see, I rely upon
+you as a man of honor."
+
+"I am only too much obliged to you for the hint," Duncombe declared.
+"But this club--the Cercle Anglais----"
+
+"The club is all right," the Vicomte admitted calmly. "Unfortunately
+there is no place in Paris which would be entirely safe for you. You
+have the misfortune, you see, to be in opposition to some of my friends,
+who have really unlimited opportunities for making things disagreeable
+for you. Now I am beginning to talk, and it is very foolish of me. Why
+don't you leave Paris, Sir George?"
+
+"Why should I?" Duncombe asked, a little sharply. "I break no laws here,
+I wrong no one. I am here on my own business, and I only ask to be let
+alone."
+
+The Vicomte regarded him as one might look at a spoilt child whom it was
+yet advisable to humor.
+
+"Ah," he said, "they will not let you alone. You are so obstinate, like
+all your country-people, or you would recognize it without my risking
+so much by speaking. You will have to leave Paris, and very soon. It is
+so easily to be managed. A dispute at cards here--you would certainly be
+in the wrong, and an ugly scandal if you were not away in twenty-four
+hours. It is one method of a thousand."
+
+"You know so much," Duncombe said. "I have no doubt that you know the
+one thing which I would give years of my life to be satisfied about."
+
+The boy's dark eyes were fixed steadily upon his.
+
+"Sir George," he said, "there is nothing which I can possibly say to
+you. My warning has been exceeding foolish, but after all if I can
+persuade you to leave Paris I shall have done no great harm. As for the
+cards--well, I must plead guilty to weakness there. I have not the
+slightest objection to taking the life of a man who is making a nuisance
+of himself, but his honor I think one should not tamper with. May I
+offer you a cigarette? Well, Louis, what luck?"
+
+The Baron had strolled back into the room, and was sitting on the arm of
+a chair.
+
+"It will be all right directly," the Baron answered. "We have three, and
+old D'Arcon has telephoned that he will be here in five minutes."
+
+Duncombe rose to his feet.
+
+"It was really very careless of me," he said, "but I completely forgot
+that I had an engagement at the hotel at six o'clock. I am afraid that I
+shall not be able to stop."
+
+The Baron glanced quickly at his young friend. There was nothing
+whatever to be learnt, though, from his pale, boyish face. His own
+countenance had darkened for the moment, but he recovered his composure
+immediately.
+
+"As you will," he answered carelessly. "Perhaps you can drop in later.
+Come and dine, will you, at half-past eight?"
+
+"I am much obliged to you, Baron," Duncombe said, "but I cannot accept
+your invitation. I am a lover of plain speaking, so I will not plead a
+previous engagement. But the one thing I want from you, the thing which
+I have almost a right to demand, you will not give. I do not feel,
+therefore, that any more than ordinary intercourse is possible between
+us."
+
+The Baron bowed gravely.
+
+"My dear Sir George," he said, "I am answered. I wish I could drive out
+of your mind that extraordinary hallucination relative to my supposed
+knowledge of your young English friend. It is impossible! Very good! I
+shall look forward to a time, Sir George, when we may meet on a better
+footing."
+
+Duncombe left the hotel with the recollection of that curiously ironic
+smile fresh in his mind.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+THE SHADOWING OF DUNCOMBE
+
+
+For three days Duncombe saw nothing of Spencer. Three long days devoid
+of incident, hopelessly dull, aimless, and uninteresting. On the fourth
+the only change in the situation was scarcely a reassuring one. He
+became aware that he was being watched.
+
+There was no particular secrecy about it. Even in the hotel itself some
+one was always on his heels. The absence of any attempt at concealment
+convinced him that it was the authorized police who had thus suddenly
+showed their interest in him. The suspicion was soon to be confirmed.
+The manager called him on the fourth morning into his private office.
+
+"Monsieur will pardon me, I trust," he said, "if I take the liberty of
+asking him a question."
+
+"Certainly!" Duncombe answered. "Go ahead!"
+
+"Monsieur is aware that he has been placed under the surveillance of the
+police?"
+
+"The fact," Duncombe said, "has been borne in upon me during the last
+few hours. What of it?"
+
+The manager coughed.
+
+"This is a cosmopolitan hotel, Sir George," he said, "and we make no
+pretence at ultra-exclusiveness, but we do not care to see the police on
+the premises."
+
+"Neither do I," Duncombe answered. "Can you suggest how we may get rid
+of them?"
+
+"Monsieur does not quite understand," the manager said smoothly.
+"Clearly he has done something to bring him under the suspicion of the
+law. Under these circumstances it would be more agreeable to the
+management of the hotel if Monsieur would depart."
+
+Duncombe did not wish to depart. The hotel at which Phyllis Poynton's
+trunks were still awaiting her return was the hotel at which he wished
+to stay.
+
+"Look here, Monsieur Huber," he said. "I give you my word of honor that
+I have broken no law, nor engaged in any criminal action whatever since
+I came to Paris. This game of having me watched is simply a piece of
+bluff. I have done nothing except make inquiries in different quarters
+respecting those two young English people who are still missing. In
+doing this I seem to have run up against what is nothing more nor less
+than a disgraceful conspiracy. Every hand is against me. Instead of
+helping me to discover them, the police seem only anxious to cover up
+the tracks of those young people."
+
+The manager looked down at his desk.
+
+"We hotel-keepers," he said, "are very much in the hands of the police.
+We cannot judge between them and the people whom they treat as suspected
+persons. I know very well, Sir George, that you are a person of
+respectability and character, but if the police choose to think
+otherwise I must adapt my views to theirs. I am sorry, but we must
+really ask you to leave."
+
+Sir George turned on his heel.
+
+"Very good!" he said. "I will go and take rooms elsewhere."
+
+He left the hotel, and walked towards the Ritz. At the corner of the
+Place Vendome an automobile was pulled up with a jerk within a few feet
+of him. A tired-looking boy leaned over wearily towards him from the
+front seat.
+
+"Sir George," he said, "can you give me five minutes?"
+
+"With pleasure!" he answered. "I was going into the Ritz. Come and have
+something."
+
+"To Maxim's, if you don't mind," the Vicomte said. "It will take us only
+a moment."
+
+Sir George stepped in. The Vicomte, in whose fingers the wheel seemed
+scarcely to rest, so light and apparently careless was his touch,
+touched a lever by his side, released the clutch, and swung the great
+car round the corner at a speed which made Duncombe grasp the sides. At
+a pace which seemed to him most ridiculous, they dashed into the Rue de
+Rivoli, and with another sharp turn pulled up before Maxim's. The
+Vicomte rose with a yawn as though he had just awoke from a refreshing
+dream. His servant slipped off his fur coat, and he descended to the
+pavement faultlessly dressed and quite unruffled. The commissionaire
+preceded them, hat in hand, to the door. A couple of waiters ushered
+them to the table which the Vicomte intimated by a gesture.
+
+"I myself," he remarked, drawing off his gloves, "take nothing but
+absinthe. What may I have the pleasure of ordering for you?"
+
+Duncombe ordered a whisky and soda.
+
+"I think," he said, "there is one thing which I ought to tell you at
+once. I am being shadowed by the police. The man who has just arrived,
+and who seems a little breathless, is, I believe, the person whose duty
+it is to dog my footsteps in the daytime."
+
+"What a pity!" the Vicomte murmured. "I would at least have taken you a
+mile or so round the boulevards if I had known. But wait! You are
+sure--that it is the police by whom you are being watched?"
+
+"Quite," Duncombe answered. "The manager of the hotel has spoken to me
+about it. He has asked me, in fact, to leave."
+
+"To leave the hotel?"
+
+"Yes! I was on my way to the Ritz to secure rooms when I met you."
+
+The Vicomte sipped his absinthe gravely.
+
+"I should not take those rooms," he said. "You will in all probability
+not occupy them."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"It has been decided," the Vicomte said, "that you are to be driven out
+of Paris. In the end you will have to go. I think if I were you I would
+not wait. The train de luxe to Calais is more comfortable than a wet
+bench in the Morgue or a French prison."
+
+"Who has decided this?" Duncombe asked. "What Emperor has signed the
+decree of my banishment?"
+
+"There have been worse served Emperors," the Vicomte remarked, "than
+the, shall we say person, who bids you go!"
+
+"What is my offence?" Duncombe asked.
+
+"I know nothing," the Vicomte answered slowly, pouring himself out some
+absinthe.
+
+"Who are my judges, then? What secret authorities have I incensed? I am
+an honest man, engaged in an honest mission. Why should I not be allowed
+to execute it?"
+
+The Vicomte half closed his eyes. Duncombe was a little angry. The
+Vicomte regarded him with reproachful wonder.
+
+"You ask me so many questions," he murmured, "and I tell you that I know
+nothing. I have asked you to come here with me because I had just this
+to say. I can answer no questions, offer no explanations. I have no
+particular liking for you, but I am afflicted with a cursedly sensitive
+disposition, and--there are things which I find it hard to watch with
+equanimity. There is a train for England at nine o'clock this evening,
+Sir George. Take it!"
+
+Duncombe rose from his seat.
+
+"I am very much obliged to you," he said. "I believe that you are giving
+me what you believe to be good advice. Whether I can follow it or not is
+a different matter."
+
+The Vicomte sighed.
+
+"You Englishmen," he said, "are so obstinate. It is the anxiety
+concerning your friends, I suppose, which keeps you here?"
+
+"Yes!"
+
+The Vicomte hesitated. He looked up and down the room, and especially at
+the man whom Duncombe had pointed out to him. He had edged nearer and
+nearer till he was almost within earshot. The Vicomte's voice, always
+low, became a whisper.
+
+"I can tell you this much, at any rate," he said. "Whatever their
+present condition may be, it is more likely to be improved than made
+worse by your departure. You are a well-meaning person, Monsieur, but
+you do nobody any good here, and you risk--more than I dare tell you."
+
+The Vicomte turned away to greet a little party of friends who had just
+entered. Duncombe strolled back to the hotel, and found Spencer walking
+restlessly up and down the hall waiting for him.
+
+"At last!" he exclaimed, with a sigh of relief. "Come up into my room,
+Spencer. We can talk there."
+
+He rang for the lift, and as they ascended he watched the other
+anxiously. Spencer was looking pale and disturbed. His eyes showed signs
+of sleeplessness, and he had not the air of a man who has good news to
+impart. As soon as they were inside the room he locked the door.
+
+"Duncombe," he said, "there is a train which leaves Paris for London at
+four o'clock. You must catch it--if you are allowed to. Don't look like
+that, man. I tell you you've got to do it. If you are in Paris to-night
+you will be in prison."
+
+"For what offence?" Duncombe asked.
+
+"For the murder of Mademoiselle Flossie. They are training the witnesses
+now. The whole thing is as easy as A B C. They can prove you so guilty
+that not even your best friend would doubt it. Pack your clothes, man,
+or ring for the valet."
+
+Duncombe hesitated, but he, too, was pale.
+
+"Are you serious, Spencer?" he asked.
+
+"I am so serious," Spencer answered, "that unless you obey me I will not
+move another finger in this matter. You lose nothing by going. All that
+a human being can do I will do! But you lose your life, or, at any rate,
+your liberty if you stay."
+
+Duncombe bowed his head to fate.
+
+"Very well!" he said. "I will go!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+"HER VOICE."
+
+
+"You have heard now," Duncombe said, finally, "the whole history of my
+wanderings. I feel like a man who has been beating the air, who has been
+at war with unseen and irresistible forces. I never seemed to have a
+chance. In plain words, I have failed utterly!"
+
+The two men were sitting in a room impossible of classification. It
+might have been a study, smoking-room, or gun-room. The walls were
+adorned with stags' heads and various trophies of the chase. There were
+guns and rifles in plenty in a rack by the chimney-piece, a row of
+bookcases along the north wall, golf clubs, cricket bats, and foils
+everywhere. A pile of logs ready for burning stood in the open grate,
+and magnificent rugs were spread about the floor. Nowhere was there the
+slightest trace of a woman's presence, for Duncombe had no sisters, and
+his was entirely a bachelor household.
+
+Duncombe himself and Andrew Pelham were seated in great easy-chairs in
+front of the open window. It was his first fine evening at home, and he
+was drinking in great draughts of the fresh pure air, fragrant with the
+perfume of roses and huge clusters of wallflowers. Paris had seemed to
+him like a great oven. All the time he had been half stifled, and yet he
+knew very well that at a word from Spencer he would have returned there
+at an hour's notice. He knew, too, that the home which he had loved all
+his days could never be quite the same place to him again.
+
+Andrew roused himself from rather a prolonged silence.
+
+"You were a brick to go, George," he said. "It is more than any one else
+in the world would have done for me."
+
+Duncombe laughed a little uneasily. He knocked the ashes from his pipe
+and refilled it slowly.
+
+"Andrew," he said, "I don't want to seem a fraud. I dare say that I
+might have gone for you alone--but I didn't."
+
+His friend smiled faintly.
+
+"Ah!" he remarked. "I had forgotten your little infatuation. It hasn't
+worn off yet, then?"
+
+"No, nor any signs of it," Duncombe answered bluntly. "It's an odd
+position for a matter-of-fact person like myself, isn't it? I tell you,
+Andrew, I've really tried to care for some of the girls about here. The
+place wants a mistress, and I'm the tenth baronet in the direct line.
+One's got to think about these things, you know. I've tried hard, and
+I've never even come near it."
+
+"It will wear off," Andrew said. "It is a very charming little fancy, a
+most delightful bit of sentiment, George, but with nothing behind it it
+can't last."
+
+"Perhaps not," Duncombe answered quietly. "All that I know is that it
+has shown no signs of wearing off up to now. It was in Paris exactly as
+it is here. And I know very well that if I thought it would do her the
+least bit of good I would start back to Paris or to the end of the world
+to-night."
+
+"I must readjust my views of you, George," his friend said with mild
+satire. "I always looked upon you as fair game for the Norfolk dowagers
+with their broods of daughters, but I never contemplated your fixing
+your affections upon a little piece of paste-board."
+
+"Rot! It is the girl herself," Duncombe declared.
+
+"But you have never seen her."
+
+Duncombe shrugged his shoulders. He said nothing. What was the use?
+Never seen her! Had she not found her way into every beautiful place his
+life had knowledge of?
+
+"If you had," Andrew murmured--"ah, well, the picture is like her. I
+remember when she was a child. She was always fascinating, always
+delightful to watch."
+
+Duncombe looked out upon the gardens which he loved, and sighed.
+
+"If only Spencer would send for me to go back to Paris," he said with a
+sigh.
+
+Andrew turned his head.
+
+"You can imagine now," he said, "what I have been suffering. The desire
+for action sometimes is almost maddening. I think that the man who sits
+and waits has the hardest task."
+
+They were silent for some time, smoking steadily. Then Duncombe reverted
+once more to his wanderings.
+
+"You remember the story they told me at the Cafe, Andrew," he said. "It
+was a lie, of course, but was Miss Poynton anything of an artist?"
+
+"To the best of my belief," Andrew answered, "she has never touched a
+brush or a pencil since she left school."
+
+Duncombe looked out into the gathering twilight.
+
+"It is a devil's riddle, this!" he said slowly. "Why did she go to that
+place at all?"
+
+"God only knows!" Andrew murmured.
+
+Duncombe's teeth were hard set. A paper-knife, which he had caught up
+from the table, snapped in his fingers. There was something in his
+throat which nearly choked him.
+
+"Phyllis Poynton," Andrew continued, "was as sweet and pure a woman as
+ever breathed. She must have loathed that place. She could only have
+gone there to seek for her brother, or----"
+
+"Or for whom?"
+
+"For those who knew where he was."
+
+Duncombe turned his head.
+
+"Andrew!"
+
+"Yes, old chap!"
+
+"Let me look at her photograph again."
+
+Andrew drew it from his pocket and passed it over. Duncombe studied it
+for several moments under the lamplight.
+
+"You are right, Andrew," he said slowly. "For her the other things would
+not be possible. I wonder----"
+
+His fingers clung to the photograph. He looked across at his friend.
+There was a slight flush in his face. He spoke nervously.
+
+"Andrew," he said, "I'm afraid it sounds a bit brutal, but--this
+photograph is no use to you just now, is it, until your eyes get better.
+Will you lend it me?"
+
+"I couldn't," Andrew answered quietly. "I can't see it now of course,
+but I like to feel it in my pocket, and it will be the first thing I
+shall look at when the doctor lets me take off these beastly
+glasses--if ever he does. Until then--well, I like to feel I've got it.
+That's all!"
+
+They both smoked furiously for several moments without looking at one
+another. Duncombe spoke first.
+
+"Andrew!"
+
+"Well?"
+
+"If she comes back--shall you ever ask her to marry you?"
+
+"I don't know, George. I'm poor, and I'm twelve years older than she is.
+I don't know."
+
+There was another silence. Then the conversation drifted back once more
+to the one subject which was monopolizing the thought of both of them.
+
+"I tell you what seems to me to be the most extraordinary part of the
+whole business," Duncombe said. "First the brother disappears. Then
+without a word to any one the sister also rushes off to Paris, and
+vanishes from the face of the earth after a series of extraordinary
+proceedings. One supposes naturally that if they have come to harm
+anywhere--if there has been a crime--there must have been a motive. What
+is it? You say that their banking account has been undisturbed?"
+
+"It was last week. I should hear if any cheques were presented."
+
+"And the boy's letter of credit even has never been drawn upon!"
+
+"No! Not since he left Vienna."
+
+"Then the motive cannot be robbery. Thank Heaven," Duncombe added, with
+a little shudder, "that it was the boy who went first."
+
+"Don't!"
+
+A great winged insect came buzzing into the room. Duncombe struck
+viciously at it with the palm of his hand.
+
+"Lord!" he muttered, "what a fool I am! I've never been away from home
+before, Andrew, without longing to get back, and here I am, just back
+from Paris in August, from turning night into day, from living just the
+sort of life I hate, and I'd give anything to be going back there
+to-morrow. I'm a haunted man, Andrew. I got up last night simply because
+I couldn't sleep, and walked down as far as the paddock. I seemed to see
+her face in all the shadowy corners, to see her moving towards me from
+amongst the trees. And I'm not an imaginative person, Andrew, and I've
+got no nerves. Look!"
+
+He held out his hand, strong and firm and brown. It was as steady as a
+rock.
+
+"I can't sleep," he continued, "I can't rest. Is there witchcraft in
+this thing, Andrew?"
+
+Andrew Pelham laughed shortly. It was a laugh which had no kinship to
+mirth.
+
+"And I," he said, "have seen her grow up. We were boy and girl together.
+I stole apples for her. I have watched her grow from girlhood into
+womanhood. I have known flesh and blood, and you a cardboard image. I
+too am a strong man, and I am helpless. I lie awake at night and I
+think. It is as though the red flames of hell were curling up around me.
+George, if she has come to any evil, whether I am blind or whether I can
+see, I'll grope my way from country to country till my hand is upon the
+throat of the beast who has harmed her."
+
+The man's voice shook with passion. Duncombe was awed into silence. He
+had known Andrew Pelham always as a good-natured, good-hearted giant,
+beloved of children and animals, deeply religious, a man whose temper,
+if he possessed such a thing, was always strictly under control. Such an
+outburst as this was a revelation. Duncombe understood then how slight a
+thing his own suffering was.
+
+"You shall not go alone, Andrew," he said softly. "But for the present
+we must wait. If any one can help us, Spencer will."
+
+A servant came in with the whisky and glasses, and silently arranged
+them upon the table. Duncombe rose and attended to his duties as host.
+
+"Can I get you anything further, sir?" the man asked.
+
+"Nothing, thanks," Duncombe answered. "Tell the servants to go to bed.
+We will lock up. Say when, Andrew!"
+
+Andrew took his glass mechanically. Out in the lane the silence of the
+summer night was suddenly broken by the regular tread of horses' feet
+and the rumbling of vehicles. Duncombe Hall was built like many of the
+old-fashioned houses in the country, with its back to the road, and the
+window at which they were sitting looked out upon it. Duncombe leaned
+forward in his chair.
+
+"Visitors by the last train going up to Runton Place," he remarked.
+"Runton has quite a large party for the first. Hullo! They're stopping.
+I'd better go out."
+
+He rose from his chair. The omnibus had stopped in the lane, and they
+could hear the voices of the occupants clearly through the soft
+darkness. Some one was apparently getting out, and stumbled. A girl's
+soft laugh rang out distinctly above the man's exclamation. Duncombe
+was already stepping over the window-sill when he felt a clutch like
+iron upon his shoulder. He looked round in amazement. Andrew's face was
+transformed. He was struggling for words.
+
+"Her voice!" he exclaimed hoarsely. "Am I dreaming, George? It was her
+voice!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+LAUGHTER OF WOMEN
+
+
+The door of the omnibus was opened as Duncombe stepped over the low wall
+into the road. A tall man in a long light Inverness descended.
+
+"Hullo, Duncombe!" he exclaimed, holding out his hand; "I was coming in
+to see you for a moment."
+
+"Good man!" Duncombe answered. "Bring your friends, won't you?"
+
+He held open the gate hospitably, but Lord Runton shook his head.
+
+"I only wanted a word with you," he said. "We're all starving, and if
+you don't mind we'll get on as quickly as we can. About to-morrow. You
+shoot with us, of course?"
+
+"Delighted!" Duncombe answered.
+
+"Cresswell met me at the station," Lord Runton continued. "I'd drawn out
+a plan for the shoot, but it seems that Cresswell--old fool--hasn't got
+his harvest in from the two fields by Ketton's Gorse. What I wanted to
+ask you was if we might take your turnips up from Mile's bottom to the
+north end of the gorse. We can make our circuit then without a break."
+
+"My dear fellow!" Duncombe protested, "was it worth while asking me such
+a thing? Of course you can."
+
+"That's settled, then," Lord Runton declared, turning back towards the
+omnibus. "Let me introduce you to my friends," he added, resting his
+hand upon the other's shoulder, "and then we'll be off."
+
+Duncombe, in whose ears his friend's cry was still ringing, pressed
+eagerly forward.
+
+"This is my neighbor, Sir George Duncombe," Lord Runton said, looking
+into the carriage, "who will shoot with us to-morrow. Miss Fielding and
+Mr. Fielding, Lady Angrave and the Baron Von Rothe."
+
+Lady Angrave held out her hand.
+
+"Sir George and I are almost old friends," she said, with a somewhat
+languid smile. "We were both at Castle Holkham last autumn."
+
+Duncombe murmured something conventional as he bowed over her fingers.
+His whole attention was riveted upon the tall, pale girl in the further
+corner of the omnibus. Her acknowledgment of his introduction had been
+of the slightest, and her features were obscured by a white veil. She
+looked away from him at once and continued a whispered conversation with
+the white-haired gentleman at her side. Duncombe could think of no
+excuse for addressing her.
+
+"I shall have the pleasure of meeting you all again to-morrow," he said,
+closing the door after Lord Runton. "I won't keep you now. I know what
+the journey is down from town. Good night, Runton!"
+
+"Good night, George. Ten o'clock sharp!"
+
+The carriage rolled off, and Duncombe returned to his own domain. Andrew
+was waiting for him impatiently by the gate.
+
+"Well!" he exclaimed eagerly, "you have seen her. Well?"
+
+The man was trembling with excitement. There were drops of perspiration
+upon his forehead. His voice sounded unnatural.
+
+"I saw a young lady in the carriage," Duncombe answered, "or rather I
+did not see her, for she wore a veil, and she scarcely looked at me. But
+she was introduced to me as Miss Fielding, and her father was with her."
+
+"Fielding! Fielding!" Andrew repeated. "Never mind that. What was she
+like! What colored hair had she?"
+
+"I told you that she kept her veil down," Duncombe repeated. "Her hair
+was a sort of deep, red-brown--what I could see of it. But, seriously,
+Andrew, what is the use of discussing her? One might as soon expect one
+of my housemaids to change into Phyllis Poynton, as to discover her with
+a brand-new father, a brand-new name, and a guest at Runton Place."
+
+Andrew was silent for a moment. He touched his spectacles with a weary
+gesture, and covered his eyes with his hand.
+
+"Yes," he said, "I suppose you are right. I suppose I am a fool.
+But--the voice!"
+
+"The laughter of women," said Duncombe, "is music all the world over.
+One cannot differ very much from the other."
+
+"You are quite wrong, George," Andrew said. "The voices of women vary
+like the thumb-marks of criminals. There are no two attuned exactly
+alike. It is the receptive organs that are at fault. We, who have lost
+one sense, find the others a little keener. The laughter of that
+girl--George, will you keep me a few days longer? Somehow I cannot bring
+myself to leave until I have heard her voice once more."
+
+Duncombe laughed heartily.
+
+"My dear fellow," he said, "I shall bless your uncommonly sensitive ears
+if they keep you here with me even for an extra few days. You shall have
+your opportunity, too. I always dine at Runton Place after our first
+shoot, and I know Runton quite well enough to take you. You shall sit at
+the same table. Hullo, what's this light wobbling up the drive?"
+
+He strolled a yard or so away, and returned.
+
+"A bicycle," he remarked. "One of the grooms has been down to the
+village. I shall have to speak to Burdett in the morning. I will not
+have these fellows coming home at all sorts of times in the morning.
+Come along in, Andrew. Just a drain, eh? And a cigarette--and then to
+bed. Runton's keen on his bag, and they say that German, Von Rothe, is a
+fine shot. Can't let them have it all their own way."
+
+"No fear of that," Andrew answered, stepping through the window. "I'll
+have the cigarette, please, but I don't care about any more whisky. The
+'Field' mentioned your name only a few weeks ago as one of the finest
+shots at rising birds in the country, so I don't think you need fear the
+German."
+
+"I ought to hold my own with the partridges," Duncombe admitted, helping
+himself from the siphon, "but come in, come in!"
+
+A servant entered with a telegram upon a silver salver.
+
+"A boy has just brought this from Runton, sir," he said.
+
+Duncombe tore it open. He was expecting a message from his gun-maker,
+and he opened it without any particular interest, but as he read, his
+whole manner changed. He held the sheet in front of him long enough to
+have read it a dozen times. He could not restrain the slight start--a
+half exclamation. Then his teeth came together. He remembered the
+servant and looked up.
+
+"There will be no answer to-night, Murray," he said. "Give the boy a
+shilling and some supper. If he goes home by the Runton gates, tell him
+to be sure and close them, because of the deer."
+
+"Very good, sir!"
+
+The man departed. Duncombe laid the telegram upon the table. He felt
+that Andrew was waiting impatiently for him to speak.
+
+"Well?"
+
+"The telegram is from Spencer," Duncombe said.
+
+"From Paris?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"He has discovered something?"
+
+"On the contrary," Duncombe answered, "he is asking me for information,
+and very curious information, too."
+
+"What does he want to know?"
+
+"The telegram," Duncombe said slowly, "is in French. He asks me to wire
+him at once the names of all the guests at Runton Place."
+
+Andrew struck the table a mighty blow with his clenched fist.
+
+"I knew it!" he cried. "It was her laugh, her voice. Phyllis Poynton is
+there!"
+
+Duncombe looked at his friend incredulously.
+
+"My dear Andrew," he said, "be reasonable. The young lady and her father
+in that omnibus were introduced to me by Runton himself as Mr. and Miss
+Fielding. They are going to his house as his guests. Naturally,
+therefore, he knows all about them. Miss Poynton, as you have told me
+more than once, is an orphan."
+
+"Common-sense won't even admit it as a matter of argument," Andrew said.
+"I know that quite well. But how do you account for Spencer's telegram?"
+
+"Remember that he is a newspaper correspondent," Duncombe said. "He has
+many interests and many friends with whom he is constantly exchanging
+information. It is a coincidence, I admit. But the wildest flight of
+imagination could not make any more of it."
+
+"You must be right," Andrew said quietly. "It all sounds, and is, so
+convincing. But I wish that I had not heard that laugh!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+MISS FIELDING FROM AMERICA
+
+
+Duncombe leaned his gun up against a gate. A few yards away his host was
+talking to the servants who had brought down luncheon. The rest of the
+party were only just in sight a field or two off.
+
+"Have a glass of sherry before lunch, George?" his host asked, strolling
+towards him.
+
+"Nothing to drink, thanks! I'd like a cigarette, if you have one."
+
+Lord Runton produced his case, and a servant brought them matches. They
+both leaned over the gate, and watched the scattered little party slowly
+coming towards them.
+
+"Who is your friend Fielding?" Duncombe asked, a little bluntly.
+
+"Fellow from New York," Lord Runton answered. "He's been very decent to
+my brother out there, and Archibald wrote and asked me to do all we
+could for them. The girl is very handsome. You'll see her at dinner
+to-night."
+
+"Here for long?"
+
+"No, unfortunately," Lord Runton answered. "I had very hard work to get
+them to come at all. Cicely has written them three or four times, I
+think, but they've always had engagements. They're only staying till
+Monday, I think. Very quiet, inoffensive sort of chap, Fielding, but the
+girl's a ripper! Hullo! Here they are. I'll introduce you."
+
+A groom had thrown open the gate of the field across which they were
+looking, and Lady Runton from the box seat of a small mail phaeton waved
+her whip. She drove straight across the furrows towards them a little
+recklessly, the groom running behind. By her side was a girl with coils
+of deep brown hair, and a thick black veil worn after the fashion of the
+travelling American.
+
+"Just in time, aren't we?" Lady Runton remarked, as she brought the
+horses to a standstill. "Help me down, Jack, and look after Miss
+Fielding, Sir George. By the bye, have you two met yet?"
+
+Duncombe bowed--he was bareheaded--and held out his hands.
+
+"I saw Miss Fielding for a moment last night," he said, "or rather I
+didn't see her. We were introduced, however. What do you think of our
+maligned English weather, Miss Fielding?" he asked.
+
+She raised her veil and looked at him deliberately. He had been prepared
+for this meeting, and yet it was with difficulty that he refrained from
+a start. The likeness of the photograph (it was even at that moment in
+his pocket) was wonderful. She looked a little older, perhaps. There
+were shadows in her face of which there were no traces in the picture.
+And yet the likeness was wonderful.
+
+"To-day at least is charming," she said. "But then I am quite used to
+your climate, you know. I have lived in Europe almost as much as in
+America."
+
+She certainly had no trace of any accent. She spoke a little more
+slowly, perhaps, than most young Englishwomen, but there was nothing
+whatever in her words or in her pronunciation of them to suggest a
+transatlantic origin. She stood by his side looking about her with an
+air of interest, and Duncombe began to wonder whether after all she was
+not more beautiful than the photograph which he had treasured so
+jealously. He became conscious of a desire to keep her by his side.
+
+"Is your father shooting, Miss Fielding?"
+
+She laughed softly.
+
+"You don't know my father, Sir George," she answered. "He hates
+exercise, detests being out of doors, and his idea of Paradise when he
+is away from business is to be in a large hotel where every one speaks
+English, where there are tapes and special editions and an American
+bar."
+
+Duncombe laughed.
+
+"Then I am afraid Mr. Fielding will find it rather hard to amuse himself
+down here."
+
+"Well, he's discovered the telephone," she said. "He's spending the
+morning ringing up people all over the country. He was talking to his
+bankers when we came out. Oh, here come the rest of them. How tired they
+look, poor things--especially the Baron! Nature never meant him to tramp
+over ploughed fields, I am sure. Baron, I was just saying how warm you
+look."
+
+The Baron took off his cap, gave up his gun to a keeper, and turned a
+glowing face towards them.
+
+"My dear young lady," he declared, "I am warm. I admit it, but it is
+good for me. Very good indeed. I tried to make your father walk with
+us. He will be sure to suffer some day if he takes no exercise."
+
+"Oh, father's never ill," the girl answered. "But then he eats nothing,
+Sir George, I hope you're going to devote yourself to me at luncheon.
+I'm terribly hungry."
+
+"So we all are," Lady Runton declared. "Come along, every one."
+
+Luncheon was served in a large open barn, pleasantly fragrant of dried
+hay, and with a delightful view of the sea far away in the distance.
+Miss Fielding chattered to every one, was amusing and amused. The Baron
+gave her as much of his attention as he was ever disposed to bestow upon
+any one at meal-times, and Duncombe almost forgot that he had
+breakfasted at eight o'clock.
+
+"Charming young person, that!" said Lady Runton's neighbor to her. "One
+of our future Duchesses, I suppose?"
+
+Lady Runton smiled.
+
+"Lots of money, Teddy," she answered. "What a pity you haven't a title!"
+
+The young man--he was in the Foreign Office--sighed, and shook his head.
+
+"Such things are not for me," he declared sententiously. "My affections
+are engaged."
+
+"That isn't the least reason why you shouldn't marry money," her
+ladyship declared, lighting a cigarette. "Go and talk to her!"
+
+"Can't spoil sport!" he answered, shaking his head. "By Jove! Duncombe
+is making the running, though, isn't he?"
+
+Her ladyship raised her glasses. Duncombe and Miss Fielding had
+strolled outside the barn. He was showing her his house--a very
+picturesque old place it looked, down in the valley.
+
+"It's nothing but a farmhouse, of course," he said. "No pretensions to
+architecture or anything of that sort, of course, but it's rather a
+comfortable old place."
+
+"I think it is perfectly charming," the girl said. "Do you live there
+all alone? You have sisters perhaps?"
+
+He shook his head.
+
+"No such luck!" he answered. "Mine is entirely a bachelor establishment.
+A great part of the time I am alone. Just now I have a pal staying with
+me--awfully decent chap, from Devonshire."
+
+She was certainly silent for a moment. He fancied too that there was a
+change in her face.
+
+"From Devonshire!" she repeated, with a carelessness which, if it was
+not natural, was exceedingly well assumed. "I believe I knew some people
+once who came from there. What is your friend's name, Sir George?"
+
+He turned slowly towards her.
+
+"Andrew Pelham!" he said quietly. "He comes from a place called
+Raynesworth."
+
+"He is staying here now--with you?"
+
+"Yes," he answered gravely.
+
+It was not his fancy this time. Of that he felt sure. Her face for the
+moment had been the color of chalk--a little exclamation had been
+strangled upon her lips. She shot a quick glance at him. He met it
+steadily.
+
+"You know the name?" he asked.
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"The name--yes," she answered, "but not the person. A very old friend
+of mine was called Andrew Pelham, but he was an American, and he has
+never been in England. It startled me, though, to hear the exact name
+from you."
+
+She was herself again. Her explanation was carelessly given. It sounded
+even convincing, but Duncombe himself was not convinced. He knew that
+she wanted him to be. He felt her eyes seeking his, studying his face.
+Perhaps she was only anxious that he should not misunderstand.
+
+"George, are you ready?" his host called out. "We're going to take
+Smith's pastures."
+
+"Quite!" Duncombe answered. "Until this evening, Miss Fielding."
+
+"You are dining at Runton Place?" she asked quietly.
+
+"Yes," he answered. "Will you tell me all about your Andrew Pelham?"
+
+She raised her eyes to his and smiled.
+
+"Do you think that you would be interested?" she asked.
+
+"You know that I should," he answered quietly.
+
+For a time he shot badly. Then he felt that his host's eye was upon him,
+and pulled himself together. But he was never at his best. He felt that
+the whole world of his sensations had been suddenly disturbed. It was
+impossible that there could be any connection between this girl and the
+photograph which had first fired him with the impulse to undertake that
+most extraordinary and quixotic mission. Yet the fact remained that the
+girl herself had had very much the same effect upon him as his first
+sight of the photograph. It was a coincidence, of course. Miss Fielding
+was charming. There was no reason why he should not indulge to the full
+his admiration of her. She had affected him in a most curious manner.
+Another man would have declared himself in love with her. It was not
+possible that she could be any one but Miss Fielding. That start which
+he had fancied that he had noticed, the sudden aging of her face, the
+look almost of fear! Absurd! He was losing his nerves. It was not
+possible, he told himself steadfastly. And yet----
+
+Some of the women were following them in a leisurely sort of way behind.
+Miss Fielding was there, walking a little apart. She carried her hat in
+her hand. The wind, which was blowing the skirts of her white cloth
+dress about her, was making havoc in her glorious hair. She walked with
+her head thrown back, with all the effortless grace of youth--a light
+heart, an easy conscience. He deliberately left his place and walked
+back to meet her. She waved her hand gayly. There was color in her
+cheeks now, and her eyes laughed into his. The shadows were gone. He
+felt that this was madness, and yet he said what he had come back to
+say.
+
+"I thought that you might be interested to know, Miss Fielding, that you
+will meet the gentleman--with the same name as your friend--this
+evening. Lord Runton has been good enough to ask him to come up and
+dine."
+
+She nodded gayly.
+
+"What a crowd of sentimental memories his coming will evoke!" she
+declared. "Be nice to me, won't you, and help me dispel them?"
+
+"Perhaps," he said, smiling with a great relief; "I might prefer to try
+to construct a few on my own account."
+
+"Go and do your duty," she commanded, laughing.
+
+Duncombe hastened to his place. His eyes were bright. He felt that he
+was walking upon air.
+
+"What a double distilled ass I nearly made of myself!" he muttered.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+MISS FIELDING ASKS A QUESTION
+
+
+She came into the room a little late, and her entrance created almost a
+sensation. Duncombe only knew that she wore a black gown and looked
+divine. Lady Runton murmured "Paquin" with a sigh and frown.
+
+"These girls might at least leave us black," she murmured to her
+neighbor. "What pearls!"
+
+Duncombe stepped forward to meet her. He could not keep the admiration
+from his eyes. Her shoulders and slim graceful neck were as white as
+alabaster, her hair was a gorgeous brown kissed into fine gold
+glimmering as though with a touch of some hidden fire. She moved with
+the delightful freedom of absolute naturalness. He murmured something
+which sounded ridiculously commonplace, and she laughed at him.
+
+"Do you know that you are going to take me in?" she said. "I hope that
+you are prepared to be very amusing. Do tell me which is your friend."
+
+Then Duncombe remembered Andrew, who was standing by his side. He turned
+towards him, and the words suddenly died away upon his lips. Andrew's
+tall frame was shaking as though with some powerful emotion. He was
+standing with his head thrust forward as though listening intently.
+Duncombe set his teeth.
+
+"Will you allow me to present my friend Miss Fielding?" he said.
+"Andrew, this is Miss Fielding. Mr. Pelham, Miss Fielding."
+
+She held out her hand and took his passive fingers.
+
+"I am so glad to know you, Mr. Pelham," she said pleasantly. "Sir George
+gave me quite a shock to-day when he spoke of you. I was once very
+nearly engaged to an Andrew Pelham in Baltimore, and I had most
+distressing visions of all my old sweethearts turning up to spoil my
+good time here."
+
+Andrew's voice sounded odd and restrained.
+
+"I have never been in America," he said.
+
+She laughed.
+
+"You need not be afraid that I am going to claim you," she declared.
+"You are at least a foot taller than my Andrew. You don't even inspire
+me with any tender recollections of him. Baron, I do hope that you have
+not taken too much exercise."
+
+"My dear young lady," he answered, bowing, "I never felt better in my
+life! Be thankful that it is not your hard fate to be my dinner
+companion. I am so hungry I should have no time for conversation."
+
+"On the contrary," she declared, "I--almost regret it! I much prefer to
+do some of the talking myself, but I seldom get a chance. Will you
+promise to give me a show to-night, Sir George?"
+
+"As long as you permit me to say two or three things which are in my
+mind," he answered, lowering his voice a little, "you may do all the
+rest of the talking."
+
+"Dear me, I am curious already," she exclaimed. "What are the two or
+three things, Sir George? Why! Do you see--nearly every one has gone,"
+she added suddenly. "Come along!"
+
+She laid her hand upon his arm and led him away. Soon he was by her side
+at the table. Their companions were uninteresting. Andrew was out of
+sight. Duncombe forgot everything else in the world except that he was
+with her.
+
+Their conversation was of trifles, yet intimate trifles. The general
+talk buzzed all round them. Neither made any effort to arrest it. To
+Duncombe she seemed simply the image he had created and worshipped
+suddenly come to life. That it was not in fact her picture went for
+nothing. There was no infidelity. The girl who had existed in his dreams
+was here. It was for her that he had departed from the even tenor of his
+ways, for her he had searched in Paris, for her he had braved the
+horrors of that unhappy week. Already he felt that she belonged to him,
+and in a vague sort of way she, too, seemed to be letting herself drift,
+to be giving color to his unconscious assumption by her lowered tone, by
+the light in her eyes which answered his, by all those little nameless
+trifles which go to the sealing of unwritten compacts.
+
+Once her manner changed. Her father, who was on the opposite side of the
+table a little way off, leaned forward and addressed her.
+
+"Say, Sybil, where did we stay in Paris? I've forgotten the name of the
+place."
+
+"L'hotel d'Athenes," she answered, and at once resumed her conversation
+with Duncombe.
+
+But somehow the thread was broken. Duncombe found himself watching the
+little gray man opposite, who ate and drank so sparingly, who talked
+only when he was spoken to, and yet who seemed to be taking a keen but
+covert interest in everything that went on about him. Her father! There
+was no likeness, no shadow of a likeness. Yet Duncombe felt almost a
+personal interest in him. They would know one another better some day,
+he felt.
+
+"So you've been in Paris lately?" he asked her suddenly.
+
+She nodded.
+
+"For a few days."
+
+"I arrived from there barely a week ago," he remarked.
+
+"I hate the place!" she answered. "Talk of something else."
+
+And he obeyed.
+
+The second interruption came from Andrew. During a momentary lull in the
+conversation they heard his firm clear voice talking.
+
+"My time was up yesterday, but I find so much to interest me down here
+that I think I shall stay on for a few more days, if my host remains as
+hospitable as ever."
+
+"So much to interest him," she murmured. "Are not all places the same to
+the blind? What does he mean?"
+
+"He is not really blind!" Duncombe answered, lowering his voice. "He can
+see things very dimly. The doctor has told him that if he wears those
+glasses for a few more months he may be able to preserve some measure of
+eyesight. Poor chap!"
+
+"He does not attract me--your friend," she said a little coldly. "What
+can he find to interest him so much here? Do you see how he keeps his
+head turned this way? It is almost as though he wished to listen to what
+we were saying."
+
+"There is a sort of reason for that," Duncombe answered. "Shall I
+explain it?"
+
+"Do!"
+
+"Pelham lives, as I think I told you, in a small country-house near
+Raynesworth," Duncombe began. "The hall in his village was occupied by a
+young man--a boy, really--and his sister. Early in the year the boy, who
+had never been abroad, thought that he would like to travel a little in
+Europe. He wandered about some time in Germany and Austria, and was
+coming home by Paris. Suddenly all letters from him ceased. He did not
+return. He did not write. He drew no money from his letter of credit. He
+simply disappeared."
+
+The girl was proceeding tranquilly with her dinner. The story so far did
+not seem to interest her.
+
+"His sister, who went over to Paris to meet him, found herself quite
+alone there, and we supposed that she devoted herself to searching for
+him. And then curiously enough she, too, disappeared. Letters from her
+suddenly ceased. No one knew what had become of her."
+
+She looked at him with a faint smile.
+
+"Now," she said, "your story is becoming interesting. Do go on. I want
+to know where you and Mr. Pelham come in."
+
+"Pelham, I think," he continued gravely, "was their oldest friend. He
+sent for me. We were old college chums, and I went. This trouble with
+his eyes had only just come on, and he was practically helpless--much
+more helpless than the ordinary blind person, because it was all new to
+him. This boy and girl were his old and dear friends. He was longing to
+be off to Paris to search for them himself, and yet he knew that so far
+as he was concerned it would be simply wasted time. He showed me the
+girl's photograph."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"I went in his place."
+
+"And did you find either of them?"
+
+"No."
+
+"I wonder," she said, "why you have told me this story?"
+
+"I am going to tell you why," he answered. "Because when Pelham heard
+you laugh last night he was like a madman. He believed that it was the
+voice of Phyllis Poynton. And I--I--when I saw you, I also felt that
+miracles were at hand. Look here!"
+
+He drew a photograph from his pocket and showed it to her. She looked at
+it long and earnestly.
+
+"Yes," she admitted, "there is a likeness. It is like what I might have
+been years ago. But will you tell me something?"
+
+"Of course!"
+
+"Why do you carry the picture of that girl about with you?"
+
+He leaned towards her, and at that moment Lady Runton rose from her
+place.
+
+"In the winter garden afterwards," he whispered. "You have asked me the
+very question that I wanted to answer!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+GEORGE DUNCOMBE'S LIE
+
+
+There was something strange about Andrew's manner as he moved up to
+Duncombe's side. The latter, who was in curiously high spirits, talked
+incessantly for several minutes. Then he came to a dead stop. He was
+aware that his friend was not listening.
+
+"What is the matter with you, old chap?" he asked abruptly. "You are
+positively glum."
+
+Andrew Pelham shook his head.
+
+"Nothing much!" he said.
+
+"Rubbish! What is it?"
+
+Andrew dropped his voice almost to a whisper. The words came hoarsely.
+He seemed scarcely master of himself.
+
+"The girl's voice tortures me," he declared. "It doesn't seem possible
+that there can be two so much alike. And then Spencer's telegram. What
+does it mean?"
+
+"Be reasonable, old fellow!" Duncombe answered. "You knew Phyllis
+Poynton well. Do you believe that she would be content to masquerade
+under a false name, invent a father, be received here--Heaven knows
+how--and meet you, an old friend, as a stranger? The thing's absurd,
+isn't it?"
+
+"Granted. But what about Spencer's telegram?"
+
+"It is an enigma, of course. We can only wait for his solution. I have
+wired him the information he asked for. In the meantime----"
+
+"Well, in the meantime?"
+
+"There is nothing to be gained by framing absurd hypotheses. I don't
+mind telling you, Andrew, that I find Miss Fielding the most delightful
+girl I ever met in my life."
+
+"Tell me exactly, George, how she compares with the photograph you have
+of Phyllis Poynton."
+
+Duncombe sipped his wine slowly.
+
+"She is very like it," he said, "and yet there are differences. She is
+certainly a little thinner and taller. The features are similar, but the
+hair is quite differently arranged. I should say that Miss Fielding is
+two or three years older than Phyllis Poynton, and she has the air of
+having travelled and been about more."
+
+"A few months of events," Andrew murmured, "might account for all those
+differences."
+
+Duncombe laughed as he followed his host's lead and rose.
+
+"Get that maggot out of your brain, Andrew," he exclaimed, "as quickly
+as possible. Will you take my arm? Mind the corner."
+
+They found the drawing-room almost deserted. Runton raised his eyeglass
+and looked around.
+
+"I bet those women have collared the billiard table," he remarked. "Come
+along, you fellows."
+
+They re-crossed the hall and entered the billiard-room. Lady Runton was
+playing with the Lord Lieutenant's wife, the Countess of Appleton. The
+others were all sitting about, either on the lounge or in the winter
+garden beyond. Miss Fielding was standing on the threshold, and
+Duncombe advanced eagerly towards her. On the way, however, he was
+buttonholed by an acquaintance, and the master of the hounds had
+something to say to him afterwards about one of his covers. When he was
+free, Miss Fielding had disappeared. He made his way into the winter
+garden, only to find her sitting in a secluded corner with the Baron.
+She looked up at his entrance, but made no sign. Duncombe reluctantly
+re-entered the billiard-room, and was captured by his host for a rubber
+of bridge.
+
+The rubber was a long one. Duncombe played badly and lost his money.
+Declining to cut in again, he returned to the winter garden. Miss
+Fielding and the Baron were still together, only they had now pushed
+their chairs a little further back, and were apparently engaged in a
+very confidential conversation. Duncombe turned on his heel and
+re-entered the billiard-room.
+
+It was not until the party broke up that he found a chance of speaking
+to her. He was sensible at once of a change in her manner. She would
+have passed him with a little nod, but he barred her way.
+
+"You have treated me shockingly," he declared, with a smile which was a
+little forced. "You promised to let me show you the winter garden."
+
+"Did I?" she answered. "I am so sorry. I must have forgotten all about
+it. The Baron has been entertaining me delightfully. Good night!"
+
+He half stood aside.
+
+"I haven't by any chance offended you, have I?" he asked in a low tone.
+
+She raised her eyebrows.
+
+"Certainly not!" she answered. "Excuse me, won't you? I want to speak
+to Lady Runton before she goes upstairs."
+
+Duncombe stood on one side and let her pass with a stiff bow. As he
+raised his eyes he saw that Mr. Fielding was standing within a few feet
+of him, smoking a cigarette. He might almost have overheard their
+conversation.
+
+"Good night, Mr. Fielding," he said, holding out his hand. "Are you
+staying down here for long?"
+
+"For two days, I believe," Mr. Fielding answered. "My daughter makes our
+plans."
+
+He spoke very slowly, but without any accent. Nothing in his appearance,
+except perhaps the fact that he wore a black evening tie, accorded with
+the popular ideas of the travelling American.
+
+"If you have an hour to spare," Duncombe said, "it would give me a great
+deal of pleasure if you and your daughter would walk down and have a
+look over my place. Part of the hall is Elizabethan, and I have some
+relics which might interest Miss Fielding."
+
+Mr. Fielding removed the cigarette from his mouth.
+
+"I thank you very much, sir," he said. "We are Lord Runton's guests, and
+our stay is so short that we could scarcely make any arrangements to
+visit elsewhere. Glad to have had the pleasure of meeting you all the
+same."
+
+Duncombe sought out his host.
+
+"Runton, old chap," he said, "do me a favor. Bring that fellow Fielding
+and his daughter round to my place before they go."
+
+Lord Runton laughed heartily.
+
+"Is it a case?" he exclaimed. "And you, our show bachelor, too! Never
+mind my chaff, old chap. She's a ripping good-looking girl, and money
+enough to buy the country."
+
+"I don't mind your chaff," Duncombe answered, "but will you bring her?"
+
+Lord Runton looked thoughtful.
+
+"How the dickens can I? We are all shooting at the Duke's to-morrow, and
+I believe they're off on Saturday. You're not in earnest by any chance,
+are you, George?"
+
+"Damnably!" he answered.
+
+Lord Runton whistled softly.
+
+"Fielding doesn't shoot," he remarked, "but they're going with us to
+Beaumanor. Shall I drop him a hint? He might stay a day longer--just to
+make a few inquiries about you on the spot, you know."
+
+"Get him to stay a day longer, if you can," Duncombe answered, "but
+don't give me away. The old chap's none too cordial as it is."
+
+"I must talk to him," Runton said. "Your Baronetcy is a thundering sight
+better than any of these mushroom peerages. He probably doesn't
+understand that sort of thing. But what about the girl? Old Von Rothe
+has been making the running pretty strong, you know."
+
+"We all have to take our chance in that sort of thing," Duncombe said
+quietly. "I am not afraid of Von Rothe!"
+
+"I'll do what I can for you," Runton promised. "Good night!"
+
+Andrew, who had left an hour or so earlier, was sitting in the library
+smoking a pipe when his host returned.
+
+"Not gone to bed yet, then?" Duncombe remarked. "Let me make you a
+whisky and soda, old chap. You look a bit tired."
+
+"Very good of you--I think I will," Andrew answered. "And, George, are
+you sure that I should not be putting you out at all if I were to
+stay--say another couple of days with you?"
+
+Duncombe wheeled round and faced his friend. His reply was not
+immediate.
+
+"Andrew," he said, "you know very well that I haven't a pal in the world
+I'd sooner have here than you for just as long as you choose to stay,
+but--forgive me if I ask you one question. Is it because you want to
+watch Miss Fielding that you have changed your mind?"
+
+"That has a good deal to do with it, George," Andrew said quietly. "If I
+left without meeting that young lady again I should be miserable. I want
+to hear her speak when she does not know that any one is listening."
+
+Duncombe crossed the room and laid his hand upon the other's shoulder.
+
+"Andrew, old fellow," he said, "I can't have it. I can't allow even my
+best friend to spy upon Miss Fielding. You see--I've come a bit of a
+cropper. Quick work, I suppose, you'd say. But I'm there all the same."
+
+"Who wants to spy upon Miss Fielding?" Andrew exclaimed hoarsely. "She
+can be the daughter of a multi-millionaire or a penniless adventurer for
+all I care. All I want is to be sure that she isn't Phyllis Poynton."
+
+"You are not yet convinced?"
+
+"No."
+
+There was a moment's silence. Duncombe walked to the window and
+returned.
+
+"Andrew," he said, "doesn't what I told you just now make a
+difference?"
+
+Andrew groaned.
+
+"Of course it would," he answered, "but--I'm fool enough to feel the
+same about Phyllis Poynton."
+
+Duncombe, in the full glow of sensations which seemed to him to give a
+larger and more wonderful outlook on life, felt his sympathies suddenly
+awakened. Andrew Pelham, his old chum, sitting there with his huge,
+disfiguring glasses and bowed head, was surely the type of all that was
+pathetic. He forgot all his small irritation at the other's obstinacy.
+He remembered only their long years of comradeship and the tragedy which
+loomed over the life of his chosen friend. Once more his arm rested upon
+his shoulder.
+
+"I'm a selfish brute, Andrew!" he said. "Stay as long as you please, and
+get this idea out of your brain. I'm trying to get Miss Fielding and her
+father down here, and if I can manage it anyhow I'll leave you two
+alone, and you shall talk as long as you like. Come, we'll have a drink
+together now and a pipe afterwards."
+
+He walked across to the sideboard, where the glasses and decanters were
+arranged. Then for the first time he saw upon the tray awaiting him a
+telegram. He gave a little exclamation as he tore it open.
+
+Andrew looked up.
+
+"What is it, George?" he asked. "A telegram?"
+
+Duncombe stood with his eyes glued upon the oblong strip of paper. A
+curious pallor had crept into his face from underneath the healthy tan
+of his complexion. Andrew, sightless though he was, seemed to feel the
+presence in the room of some exciting influence. He rose to his feet and
+moved softly across to the sideboard.
+
+"Is it a telegram, George?" he whispered hoarsely. "Read it to me. Is it
+from Spencer?"
+
+Duncombe collected himself with an effort.
+
+"It's nothing," he answered with a little laugh, in which all the
+elements of mirth were lacking, "nothing at all! A note from Heggs, my
+head-keeper--about some poachers. Confound the fellow!"
+
+Andrew's hand was suddenly upon the sideboard, travelling furtively
+across its shining surface. Duncombe watched it with a curious sense of
+fascination. He felt altogether powerless to interfere. He was simply
+wondering how long it would be before those long, powerful fingers
+seized upon what they sought. He might even then have swept aside the
+envelope, but he felt no inclination to do so. The fingers were moving
+slowly but surely. Finally, with a little grab, they seized upon it.
+Then there was another moment of suspense.
+
+Slowly the hand was withdrawn. Without a second's warning Duncombe felt
+himself held in the grip of a giant. Andrew had him by the throat.
+
+"You have lied to me, George!" he cried. "There was a telegram!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+"WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE?"
+
+
+It seemed to Duncombe that time stood still. Andrew's face, wholly
+disfigured by the hideous dark spectacles, unrecognizable, threatening,
+was within a few inches of his own. He felt the other's hot breath upon
+his cheek. For a moment there stole through his numbed senses the fear
+of more terrible things. And then the grip which held him relaxed.
+Andrew stood away gasping. The crisis was over.
+
+"You lied to me, George. Why?"
+
+Duncombe did not answer. He could not. It was as though his body had
+been emptied of all breath.
+
+"You meant to keep the contents of that telegram a secret from me. Why?
+Was I right after all? Read me that telegram, George. Read it me
+truthfully."
+
+"The telegram is from Spencer," Duncombe said. "He is coming here."
+
+"Here? Is he giving up the search? Has he failed, then?"
+
+"He does not say," Duncombe answered. "He says simply that he is coming
+here. He has wired for a motor to meet him at Lynn. He may be here
+to-night."
+
+A discordant laugh broke from Pelham's lips.
+
+"What about your Miss Fielding, now?" he exclaimed. "Why do you suppose
+that he is leaving Paris, and coming here? I was right. I knew that I
+was right."
+
+Duncombe stood up. His expanse of shirt-front was crumpled and battered.
+His white tie was hanging down in ribbons.
+
+"Listen, Andrew!" he exclaimed. "I am speaking of the girl by whose side
+I sat to-night at dinner, who calls herself Miss Fielding, who has--in
+plain words--denied that she knows anything of Phyllis Poynton. I want
+you to understand this. Whatever she may choose to call herself that
+shall be her name. I will not have her questioned or bullied or watched.
+If Spencer comes here to do either I have finished with him. I elect
+myself her protector. I will stand between her and all suspicion of evil
+things."
+
+"She has found a champion indeed!" Pelham exclaimed fiercely. "With Miss
+Fielding I have nothing to do. Yet you had better understand this. If
+she be Phyllis Poynton she belongs to me, and not to you. She was mine
+before you heard her name. I have watched her grow up from a child, I
+taught her to ride and to shoot and to swim. I have watched her
+listening to the wind, bending over the flowers in her garden. I have
+walked with her over the moor when the twilight fell and the mists rose.
+We have seen the kindling of the stars, and we have seen the moon grow
+pale and the eastern sky ablaze. I have taught her where to look for the
+beautiful things of life. She has belonged to me in all ways, save one.
+I am a poor, helpless creature now, George, but, by the gods, I will let
+no one rob me of my one holy compensation. She is the girl I love; the
+better part of myself."
+
+"Phyllis Poynton may be all these things to you," Duncombe answered. "I
+do not know her. I do not recognize her. Find her, if you can; make of
+her what you will. All that I ask of you is that you divest your mind of
+these senseless suspicions. Seek Phyllis Poynton where you will, but
+leave alone the woman whom I love. I will not have her troubled or
+annoyed by needless importunities. She says she is Miss Fielding. Then
+she is Miss Fielding. It is enough for me. It must be enough for you!"
+
+"And what about Spencer?" Pelham asked grimly.
+
+"Spencer in this matter is my servant," Duncombe answered. "If his
+search for Phyllis Poynton entails his annoying Miss Fielding, then he
+is dismissed. I will have no more to do with the business."
+
+"I have heard of this man Spencer," Andrew answered. "If you think that
+he is the sort of creature whom you can order about like that, I fancy
+that you are mistaken. You may try to call him off, if you like, but you
+won't succeed. He is searching for Phyllis Poynton, and he is coming
+here. I believe that he will find her."
+
+The windows were wide open, and both men suddenly turned round. There
+was no mistaking the sound which came to them from the road outside--the
+regular throb and beat of a perfectly balanced engine. Then they heard a
+man's voice, cool and precise.
+
+"Here you are, then, and a sovereign for yourself. A capital little car
+this. Good night!"
+
+The little iron gate opened and closed. A tall man in a loose
+travelling-coat, and carrying a small bag, entered. He saw Duncombe
+standing at the open window, and waved his hand. As he approached his
+boyish face lit up into a smile.
+
+"What luck to find you up!" he exclaimed. "You got my telegram?"
+
+"An hour ago," Duncombe answered. "This is my friend, Mr. Andrew Pelham.
+What will you have?"
+
+"Whisky and soda, and a biscuit, please," was the prompt reply. "Haven't
+upset you, I hope, coming down from the clouds in this fashion?"
+
+"Not in the least," Duncombe answered. "You've made us very curious,
+though."
+
+"Dear me!" Spencer exclaimed, "what a pity! I came here to ask
+questions, not to answer them. You've set me a regular poser, Duncombe.
+By Jove! that's good whisky."
+
+"Help yourself," Duncombe answered. "We won't bother you to-night. I'll
+show you a room as soon as you've had a cigarette. Fair crossing?"
+
+"No idea," Spencer answered. "I slept all the way. Jolly place you've
+got here, Duncombe. Nice country, too."
+
+"There is just one question," Pelham began.
+
+"Sha'n't answer it--to-night," Spencer interrupted firmly. "I'm dead
+sleepy, and I couldn't guarantee to tell the truth. And when to-morrow
+comes--I'll be frank with you--I've very little to say. Pardon me, but
+where does Mr. Pelham come in in this matter?"
+
+"Pelham," Duncombe said slowly, "was a neighbor of Miss Poynton's, in
+Devonshire. It was through him that I first went to Paris to search for
+her."
+
+Spencer nodded.
+
+"Glad to meet him, then," he remarked. "There are a few questions I
+shall be glad to ask him in the morning."
+
+"There is one," Pelham said, "which you must answer now."
+
+Spencer raised his eyebrows. He was standing with his back to them now,
+helping himself to sandwiches from a dish upon the sideboard.
+
+"By Jove, your cook does understand these things," he remarked, with his
+mouth full. "No idea I was so hungry. What was that, Mr. Pelham? A
+question which must be answered now?"
+
+"Yes. You telegraphed to Duncombe to know the names of Lord Runton's
+guests, and now you have come here yourself. Why?"
+
+Spencer helped himself to another sandwich.
+
+"I came here," he said, "because I didn't seem to be getting on in
+Paris. It struck me that the clue to Miss Poynton's disappearance might
+after all be on this side of the Channel."
+
+Pelham guided himself by the table to the sideboard. He stood close to
+Spencer.
+
+"Mr. Spencer," he said, "I am almost blind, and I cannot see your face,
+but I want you to tell me the truth. I expect it from you."
+
+"My dear fellow," Spencer answered. "I'm awfully sorry for you, of
+course, but I really don't see why I should answer your questions at
+all, truthfully or untruthfully. I have been making a few inquiries for
+my friend Duncombe. At present I regret to say that I have been
+unsuccessful. In their present crude state I should prefer keeping my
+discoveries, such as they are, to myself."
+
+Pelham struck the sideboard with his clenched fist so that all the
+glasses rattled upon the tray. His face was dark with passion.
+
+"I will not be ignored in this matter," he declared. "Phyllis Poynton
+and her brother are nothing to Duncombe. He acted only for me. He cannot
+deny it. Ask him for yourself."
+
+"I do not need to ask him," Spencer answered. "I am perfectly well aware
+of the circumstances of the case. All the same, I go about my business
+my own way. I am not ready to answer questions from you or anybody
+else."
+
+"You shall tell me this at least," Pelham declared. "You shall tell me
+why you telegraphed here for the names of Lord Runton's house party."
+
+"Simplest thing in the world," Spencer answered, relinquishing his
+attack upon the sandwiches, and lighting a cigarette. "I did it to
+oblige a friend who writes society notes for the 'New York Herald.'"
+
+Duncombe gave vent to a little exclamation of triumph. Pelham for the
+moment was speechless.
+
+"Awfully sorry if I misled you in any way," Spencer continued. "I never
+imagined your connecting my request with the disappearance of Phyllis
+Poynton. Why should I?"
+
+"The fact is," Duncombe interposed, "there is a girl staying at Runton
+Place whose voice Pelham declares is exactly like Phyllis Poynton's, and
+whose general appearance, I will admit, is somewhat similar to the
+photograph I showed you. It is a coincidence, of course, but beyond that
+it is absurd to go. This young lady is a Miss Fielding. She is there
+with her father, and they are invited guests, with all the proper
+credentials."
+
+Spencer nodded.
+
+"I suppose it is because I am not a lady's man," he said carelessly,
+"but I must admit that all girls' voices sound pretty much alike to me."
+
+"I wish to Heaven that I could see your face!" Pelham exclaimed, "I
+should know then whether you were telling me the truth."
+
+"The weak point about my temporary profession is," Spencer remarked
+thoughtfully, "that it enables even strangers to insult one with
+impunity."
+
+"If I have misjudged you," Pelham said with some dignity, "I am sorry. I
+am to understand, then, that you have no news whatever to give us about
+the disappearance of Phyllis Poynton and her brother?"
+
+"Not a scrap!" Spencer answered.
+
+"I will wish you both good night, then," Pelham said. "No, don't
+trouble, George. I can find my way quite well by myself."
+
+He disappeared, and Duncombe drew a little sigh of relief.
+
+"Excitable person, your friend!" Spencer remarked.
+
+Duncombe nodded.
+
+"Very! I am frightened to death that he will make an ass of himself
+before Miss Fielding. If he hears her speak he loses his head."
+
+"Nice girl?" Spencer asked.
+
+"Yes--very!"
+
+"What sort of a fellow's the father?"
+
+"Very quiet. I've scarcely spoken to him. They're Americans. Friends of
+Lord Runton's brother, out in New York. Ever heard of them?"
+
+"Yes. A few times."
+
+"You seem interested."
+
+"I am--very."
+
+Duncombe turned suddenly white.
+
+"What do you mean?" he asked.
+
+Spencer held his cigarette between his fingers and looked at it
+thoughtfully.
+
+"Mr. Fielding, of New York," he said, "sailed for America from Havre
+last Saturday. His daughter has gone to Russia with a party of friends."
+
+Duncombe sprang from his seat. His cigarette slipped from his fingers
+and fell unheeded upon the carpet.
+
+"Then who--who are these people?" he exclaimed.
+
+Spencer shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"I thought it worth while," he said, "to come over and find out."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+A HILLSIDE ENCOUNTER
+
+
+A few minutes before ten the following morning a mounted messenger from
+Runton Place brought the following note for Duncombe:--
+
+       "RUNTON PLACE, _Friday Morning_.
+
+     "MY DEAR DUNCOMBE,--Fielding has cried off the shoot
+     to-day. Says he has a motor coming over for him to try from
+     Norwich, and his dutiful daughter remains with him. Thought I
+     would let you know in case you cared to come and look them up.
+     Best I could do for you.
+
+     "Ever yours sincerely,
+
+       "RUNTON."
+
+Duncombe had breakfasted alone. Pelham had asked for something to be
+sent up for him, and Spencer, after a cup of coffee in his room, had
+gone out. Duncombe did not hesitate for a moment. He started at once for
+Runton Place.
+
+A marvellous change had taken place in the weather since the previous
+day. The calm splendor of the early autumn seemed to have vanished. A
+strong north wind was blowing, and the sky was everywhere gray and
+threatening. The fields of uncut corn were bent, like the waves of the
+sea, and the yellow leaves came down from the trees in showers. Piled up
+masses of black clouds were driven across the sky. Scanty drops of rain
+kept falling, an earnest of what was to come as soon as the wind should
+fail. Duncombe had almost to fight his way along until, through a
+private gate, he entered Runton Park. The house lay down in the valley
+about a mile away. To reach it one had to cross a ridge of hills covered
+with furze bushes and tumbled fragments of ancient rock.
+
+Half-way up the first ascent he paused. A figure had struggled into
+sight from the opposite side--the figure of a girl. Her skirts and cloak
+were being blown wildly about her. She wore a flat Tam-o'-Shanter hat,
+from under the confines of which her hair was defying the restraint of
+hatpins and elastic. She stood there swaying a little from the violence
+of the wind, slim and elegant, notwithstanding a certain intensity of
+gaze and bearing. Duncombe felt his heart give a quick jump as he
+recognized her. Then he started up the hill as fast as he could go.
+
+She stood perfectly still, watching him clamber up to her side. Her face
+showed no sign of pleasure or annoyance at his coming. He felt at once
+that it was not he alone who had realized the coming of the tragedy.
+
+No words of conventional greeting passed between them as he clambered
+breathless to her side. The wind had brought no color into her cheeks.
+There were rims under her eyes. She had the appearance of one who had
+come into touch with fearsome things.
+
+"What do you want with me?" she asked. "Why are you here?"
+
+"To be with you," he answered. "You know why."
+
+She laughed mirthlessly.
+
+"Better go back," she exclaimed. "I am no fit companion for any one
+to-day. I came out to be alone."
+
+A gust of wind came tearing up the hillside. They both struggled for
+breath.
+
+"I came," he said, "to find you. I was going to the house. Something has
+happened which you ought to know."
+
+She looked back towards the long white front of the house, and there was
+terror in her eyes.
+
+"Something is happening there," she muttered, "and I am afraid."
+
+He took her gloveless hand. It was as cold as ice. She did not resist
+his touch, but her fingers lay passively in his.
+
+"Let me be your friend," he pleaded. "Never mind what has happened, or
+what is going to happen. You are in trouble. Let me share it with you."
+
+"You cannot," she answered. "You, nor any one else in the world. Let me
+go! You don't understand!"
+
+"I understand more than you think!" he answered.
+
+She turned her startled eyes upon him.
+
+"What do you mean?" she cried.
+
+"I mean that the man whom we employed to trace the whereabouts of
+Phyllis Poynton and her brother arrived from Paris last night," he
+answered. "He wanted a list of Lord Runton's house party. Can you guess
+why?"
+
+"Go on!"
+
+"Mr. Fielding, of New York, left Havre on Saturday----"
+
+"Stop!"
+
+Her voice was a staccato note of agony. Between the fingers which were
+pressed to her face he could see the slow, painful flushing of her
+cheeks.
+
+"Why did you come to tell me this?" she asked in a low tone.
+
+"You know," he answered.
+
+"Did you guess last night that we were impostors?" she asked.
+
+"Certainly not," he answered. "Andrew was tortured with doubts about
+you. He believed that you were Phyllis Poynton!"
+
+"I am!" she whispered. "I was afraid of him all the evening. He must
+have known."
+
+It seemed to Duncombe that the rocks and gorse bushes were spinning
+round and the ground was swaying under his feet. The wind, which had
+kept them both half breathless, seemed full of mocking voices. She was
+an impostor. These were her own words. She was in danger of detection,
+perhaps of other things. At that very moment Spencer might have gained
+an entrance into Runton Place. He felt uncertain of himself, and all the
+time her eyes watched him jealously.
+
+"Why did you come here?" she cried. "Why do you look at me like that? It
+is no concern of yours who I am. Why do you interfere?"
+
+"Everything that concerns you concerns me," he answered. "I don't care
+who you are, or who you say you are. I don't even ask you for any sort
+of explanation. I came to warn you about Spencer. For the rest, here am
+I your friend whatever happens. You are terrified! Don't go back to the
+house. Give me the right to take care of you. I'll do it!"
+
+Then for the first time a really human expression lit up her face. The
+sick fear passed away. Her features were suddenly softer. The light in
+her eyes was a beautiful thing.
+
+"You are kind," she murmured, "kinder than I ever dreamed any one could
+be who--knew. Will you be kinder still?"
+
+"Try me!" he begged.
+
+"Then go away. Forget who I am. Forget who I am not. Shut yourself up in
+your study for twenty-four hours, and come out without any memories at
+all. Oh, do this for me--do this!" she begged, with a sudden break in
+her voice.
+
+She leaned a little towards him. A long wisp of her hair blew in his
+face. A moment of madness came to him with the gust of wind which blew
+her almost into his arms. For one exquisite moment he held her. The
+violets at her bosom were crushed against his coat. Then she tore
+herself away.
+
+"You are mad," she cried. "It is my fault. Oh, let me go!"
+
+"Never," he answered, passionately clasping at her hand. "Call yourself
+by what name you will, I love you. If you are in trouble, let me help.
+Let me go back to the house with you, and we will face it together,
+whatever it may be. Come!"
+
+She wrung her hands. The joy had all gone from her face.
+
+"Oh, what have I done?" she moaned. "Don't you understand that I am an
+impostor? The man down there is not my father. I--oh, let me go!"
+
+She wrenched herself free. She stood away from him, her skirt gathered
+up into her hand, prepared for flight.
+
+"If you would really do me a kindness," she cried, "get Mr. Spencer to
+stop his search for me. Tell him to forget that such a person ever
+existed. And you, too! You must do the same. What I have done, I have
+done of my own free will. I am my own mistress. I will not be interfered
+with. Listen!"
+
+She turned a white, intent face towards the house. Duncombe could hear
+nothing for the roaring of the wind, but the girl's face was once more
+convulsed with terror.
+
+"What was that?" she cried.
+
+"I heard nothing," he answered. "What can one hear? The wind is strong
+to drown even our voices."
+
+"And those?" she cried again, pointing with outstretched finger to two
+rapidly moving black specks coming towards them along the winding road
+which led from the highway to Runton Place.
+
+Duncombe watched them for a moment.
+
+"They are the Runton shooting brakes," he declared.
+
+"I expect Lord Runton and the rest of them are coming back."
+
+"Coming back!" she repeated, with a little gasp.
+
+"But they were going to shoot all day and dine there. They are not
+expected home till past midnight."
+
+"I expect the shoot is off," Duncombe remarked. "One couldn't possibly
+hit anything a day like this. I wonder they ever started."
+
+Her face was white enough before, but it was deathly now. Her lips
+parted, but only a little moan came from them. He heard the rush of her
+skirts, and saw her spring forward. He was left alone upon the hilltop.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+MR. FIELDING IN A NEW ROLE
+
+
+Runton was apparently enjoying the relaxation of having got rid of
+practically the whole of its guests for the day. The women servants were
+going about their duties faithfully enough, but with a marked absence of
+any superfluous energy. Mr. Harrison, the butler, was enjoying a quiet
+pipe in his room and a leisurely perusal of the morning paper. Mrs.
+Ellis, the much-respected housekeeper, was also in her room comfortably
+ensconced in an easy-chair, and studying a new volume of collected menus
+which a friend had sent her from Paris. The servants were not exactly
+neglecting their work, but every one was appreciating a certain sense of
+peace which the emptying of the house from a crowd of more or less
+exacting guests had brought about.
+
+In one room only things were different, and neither Mrs. Ellis nor Mr.
+Harrison, nor any of the household, knew anything about that. It was the
+principal guest-chamber on the first floor--a large and handsomely
+furnished apartment. Barely an hour ago it had been left in spotless
+order by a couple of painstaking servants. Just now it had another
+aspect.
+
+In the middle of the room a man lay stretched upon the floor, face
+downwards. The blood was slowly trickling from a wound in the side of
+the head down on to the carpet. With nearly every breath he drew he
+groaned. Overturned chairs and tables showed that he had taken part in
+no ordinary struggle. The condition of the other man also testified
+this.
+
+The other man was Mr. Fielding. He was down on his knees upon the floor,
+rapidly going through the contents of a dark mahogany box, which was
+apparently full of papers. Scattered over the carpet by his side were
+various strange-looking tools, by means of which he had forced the lock.
+Mr. Fielding was not at all his usual self. His face was absolutely
+colorless, and every few moments his hand went up to his shoulder-blade
+and a shiver went through his whole frame. There was a faint odor of
+gunpowder in the room, and somewhere near the feet of the prostrate man
+lay a small shining revolver. Nevertheless, Mr. Fielding persevered in
+his task.
+
+Suddenly there came an interruption. Footsteps outside in the corridor
+had paused. There was a sharp tapping at the door. The prostrate man
+groaned louder than ever, and half turned over, proving that he was not
+wholly unconscious. Mr. Fielding closed the box and staggered to his
+feet.
+
+He stood for a moment staring wildly at the door. Who could it be? He
+had asked, as a special favor, that he might not be disturbed, and Mr.
+Fielding knew how to ask favors of servants. Interruption now meant
+disaster, absolute and unqualified--the end, perhaps, of a career in
+which he had achieved some success. Big drops of perspiration stood out
+upon his forehead, drawn there by the pain and this new fear. Slowly,
+and on tiptoe, he drew near the door.
+
+"Who is that?" he asked with wonderful calmness.
+
+"It is I! Let me in," came the swift answer, and Mr. Fielding drew a
+little breath of relief. Nevertheless he was angry. He opened the door
+and drew the girl in.
+
+"You fool!" he exclaimed. "I sent you out of the way on purpose. Why
+have you come back?"
+
+She opened her lips, but no words came. The man on the floor groaned
+again. She swayed upon her feet. It was all so horrible.
+
+"Speak, can't you!" he muttered between his teeth. "Things have gone
+badly here. I'm wounded, and I'm afraid--I've hurt that chap--pretty
+badly."
+
+"I was in the park," she faltered, "and saw them. They are all coming
+back."
+
+"Coming back?"
+
+"They are almost here. Sir George Duncombe told me that they could not
+shoot because of the wind."
+
+"The car?"
+
+"Downstairs--waiting."
+
+He had forgotten his hurt. He caught up his hat and a coat, and pushed
+her out of the room. He locked the door, and thrust the key into his
+pocket. As they walked down the corridor he lit a cigarette.
+
+A footman met them in the hall.
+
+"A gentleman has called to see you, sir--a Mr. Spencer," he announced.
+"I have shown him into the library."
+
+Mr. Fielding appeared to hesitate for a moment.
+
+"It is the man who wants to sell us the car," he exclaimed, turning
+towards the girl, "but I haven't even seen it yet. Better tell him to
+wait for a quarter of an hour," he added, turning towards the footman.
+"I'll just drive down to the lodge gates and back. Come along, Sybil."
+
+She followed him to the front door. A man was seated at the wheel of the
+motor car, and turned his head quickly as they approached. Mr. Fielding
+nodded pleasantly, though his face was white with excruciating pain.
+
+"Kept you waiting, I'm afraid," he said. "Can you drive at all in a wind
+like this?"
+
+"Jump in, sir, and see," the man answered. "Is the young lady coming?"
+
+Mr. Fielding nodded, and stepped into the front seat. The girl was
+already in the tonneau. The man slipped in his clutch, and they glided
+round the broad, circular sweep in front of the entrance. Just as they
+started the wagonette drew up.
+
+"We sha'n't be more than a few minutes," Mr. Fielding cried out, waving
+his hand. "Sorry you've lost your day's sport."
+
+"Hold on a minute, and I'll come with you," Runton called out. "That car
+looks like going."
+
+But Mr. Fielding did not hear.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Duncombe, who had returned from the park by the fields, was crossing the
+road to enter his own gates, when a black speck far away on the top of
+the hill attracted his attention. He stood still gazing at it, and was
+instantly aware that it was approaching him at an almost incredible
+speed. It gathered shape swiftly, and he watched it with a fascination
+which kept him rooted to the spot. Above the wind he could hear the
+throbbing of its engines. He saw it round a slight curve in the road,
+with two wheels in the air, and a skid which seemed for a moment as
+though it must mean destruction. Mud and small stones flew up around it.
+The driver was crouching forward over the wheel, tense and motionless.
+Duncombe moved to the side of the road to let it pass, with a little
+exclamation of anger.
+
+Then it came more clearly into sight, and he forgot his anger in his
+amazement. The seat next the driver was occupied by a man leaning far
+back, whose face was like the face of the dead. Behind was a solitary
+passenger. She was leaning over, as though trying to speak to her
+companion. Her hair streamed wild in the wind, and on her face was a
+look of blank and fearful terror. Duncombe half moved forward. She saw
+him, and touched the driver's arm. His hand seemed to fly to the side of
+the car, and his right foot was jammed down. With grinding of brakes and
+the screaming of locked wheels, the car was brought to a standstill
+within a few feet of him. He sprang eagerly forward. She was already
+upon her feet in the road.
+
+"Sir George," she said, "your warning, as you see, was barely in time.
+We are adventurer and adventuress--detected. I suppose you are a
+magistrate. Don't you think that you ought to detain us?"
+
+"What can I do to help you?" he asked simply.
+
+She looked at him eagerly. There were mud spots all up her gown, even
+upon her face. Her hair was wildly disordered. She carried her hat in
+her hand.
+
+"You mean it?" she cried.
+
+"You know that I do!"
+
+She turned and looked up the road along which they had come. There was
+no soul in sight. She looked even up at the long line of windows which
+frowned down upon them from the back of the Hall. They, too, were
+empty. She thrust a long envelope suddenly into his hand.
+
+"Guard this for me," she whispered. "Don't let any one know that you
+have it. Don't speak of it to any one. Keep it until I can send for it."
+
+He thrust it into his inner pocket and buttoned his coat.
+
+"It is quite safe," he said simply.
+
+Her eyes flashed her gratitude upon him. For the first time he saw
+something in her face--heard it in her tone, which made his heart beat.
+After all she was human.
+
+"You are very good to me," she murmured. "Believe me, I am not quite as
+bad as I seem. Good-bye."
+
+He turned with her towards the car, and she gave a low cry. He too
+started. The car was a mile away, tearing up a hill, and almost out of
+sight. In the lane behind they could hear the sound of galloping horses.
+He caught her by the wrist, dragged her through the gate, and behind a
+great shrub on the lawn.
+
+"Stay there!" he exclaimed hoarsely. "Don't move. I will come back."
+
+Half a dozen horsemen were coming along the lane at steeplechase pace.
+Lord Runton, on his wonderful black horse, which no man before had ever
+seen him gallop save across the softest of country, pulled up outside
+the gate.
+
+"Seen a motor go by, Duncombe?" he called out.
+
+Duncombe nodded.
+
+"Rather!" he answered. "Fielding and Miss Fielding in it. Going like
+Hell!"
+
+Runton waved his companions on, and leaned down to Duncombe.
+
+"Beastly unpleasant thing happened, Duncombe," he said. "Fielding and
+his daughter have bolted. Fielding seems to have half killed a messenger
+who came down from London to see Von Rothe, and stolen some papers. Fact
+of the matter is he's not Fielding at all--and as for the girl! Lord
+knows who she is. Sorry for you, Duncombe. Hope you weren't very hard
+hit!"
+
+He gathered up his reins.
+
+"We've sent telegrams everywhere," he said, "but the beast has cut the
+telephone, and Von Rothe blasphemes if we talk about the police. It's a
+queer business."
+
+He rode off. Duncombe returned where the girl was standing. She was
+clutching at the branches of the shrub as though prostrate with fear,
+but at his return she straightened herself. How much had she heard he
+wondered.
+
+"Don't move!" he said.
+
+She nodded.
+
+"Can any one see me?" she asked.
+
+"Not from the road."
+
+"From the house?"
+
+"They could," he admitted, "but it is the servants' dinner hour. Don't
+you notice how quiet the house is?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+She was very white. She seemed to find some difficulty in speaking.
+There was fear in her eyes.
+
+"It would not be safe for you to leave here at present," he said. "I am
+going to take you into a little room leading out of my study. No one
+ever goes in it. You will be safe there for a time."
+
+"If I could sit down--for a little while."
+
+He took her arm, and led her unresistingly towards the house. The
+library window was closed, but he opened it easily, and helped her
+through. At the further end of the room was an inner door, which he
+threw open.
+
+"This is a room which no one except myself ever enters," he said. "I
+used to do a little painting here sometimes. Sit down, please, in that
+easy-chair. I am going to get you a glass of wine."
+
+They heard the library door suddenly opened. A voice, shaking with
+passion, called out his name.
+
+"Duncombe, are you here? Duncombe!"
+
+There was a dead silence. They could hear him moving about the room.
+
+"Hiding, are you? Brute! Come out, or I'll--by heavens, I'll shoot you
+if you don't tell me the truth. I heard her voice in the lane. I'll
+swear to it."
+
+Duncombe glanced quickly towards his companion. She lay back in the
+chair in a dead faint.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+A WOMAN'S CRY
+
+
+The three men were sitting at a small round dining-table, from which
+everything except the dessert had been removed. Duncombe filled his own
+glass and passed around a decanter of port. Pelham and Spencer both
+helped themselves almost mechanically. A cloud of restraint had hung
+over the little party. Duncombe raised his glass and half emptied its
+contents. Then he set it down and leaned back in his chair.
+
+"Well," he said, "I am ready for the inquisition. Go on, Andrew."
+
+Pelham fingered his own glass nervously. He seemed to find his task no
+easy one.
+
+"George," he said, "we are old friends. I want you to remember it. I
+want you also to remember that I am in a hideous state of worry and
+nerves"--he passed his hand over his forehead just above his eyes as
+though they were hurting him. "I am not behaving to you as a guest
+should to his host. I admit it freely. I have lost my temper more than
+once during the last twenty-four hours. I am sorry! Forgive me if you
+can, George!"
+
+"Willingly, Andrew," Duncombe answered. "I shall think no more about
+it."
+
+"At the same time," Pelham continued, "there is another point to be
+considered. Have you been quite fair to me, George? Remember that
+Phyllis Poynton is the one person whose existence reconciles me to life.
+You had never even heard her name before I sent for you. You went
+abroad, like the good fellow you are, to find her for me. You assure me
+that you have discovered--nothing. Let me put you upon your honor,
+George. Is this absolutely true?"
+
+"I have discovered nothing about Phyllis Poynton," Duncombe declared
+quietly.
+
+"About Miss Fielding then?"
+
+"Phyllis Poynton and Miss Fielding are two very different persons,"
+Duncombe declared.
+
+"That may be so," Pelham said, "although I find it hard to believe that
+God ever gave to two women voices so exactly similar. Yet if you are
+assured that this is so, why not be altogether frank with me?"
+
+"What have you to complain of?" Duncombe asked.
+
+"Something has happened at Runton Place, in which Mr. Fielding and his
+daughter are concerned," Pelham continued. "I have heard all manner of
+strange rumors. This afternoon I distinctly heard the girl's voice in
+the lane outside. She was crying out as though in fear. A few minutes
+later I heard you speaking to some one in the library. Yet when I
+entered the room you would not answer me."
+
+"Supposing I grant everything that you say, Andrew," Duncombe answered.
+"Supposing I admit that strange things have happened with regard to Mr.
+Fielding and his daughter which have resulted in their leaving Runton
+Place--even that she was there in the lane this afternoon--how does all
+this concern you?"
+
+"Because," Pelham declared, striking the table with his fist, "I am not
+satisfied that the girl who has been staying at Runton Place, and
+calling herself Miss Fielding, is not in reality Phyllis Poynton."
+
+Duncombe lit a cigarette, and passed the box round.
+
+"Do you know what they are saying to-night of Mr. Fielding and his
+daughter?" he asked quietly.
+
+"No!"
+
+"That the one is a robber, and the other an adventuress," Duncombe
+answered. "This much is certainly true. They have both left Runton Place
+at a moment's notice, and without taking leave of their host and
+hostess. Remember, I never knew Phyllis Poynton. You did! Ask yourself
+whether she is the sort of young person to obtain hospitality under
+false pretences, and then abuse it--to associate herself in a fraud with
+a self-confessed robber."
+
+"The idea," Pelham said quietly, "is absurd."
+
+"While we are on the subject," Spencer remarked, drawing the cigarettes
+towards him, "may I ask you a few questions, Mr. Pelham? For instance,
+had Miss Poynton any relations in France?"
+
+"Not to my knowledge," Pelham answered. "I have known both her and her
+brother for a great many years, and I never heard either of them mention
+any."
+
+"Why did she go to Paris, then?"
+
+"To meet her brother."
+
+"And why did he go abroad?"
+
+"It was a whim, I think. Just a desire to see a few foreign countries
+before he settled down to live the life of a country gentleman."
+
+"You believe that he had no other reason?"
+
+"I think I may go so far as to say that I am sure of it," Pelham
+answered.
+
+"One more question," Spencer added, intervening.
+
+But the question remained unasked. The butler had opened the dining-room
+door and was announcing Lord Runton.
+
+Duncombe rose to his feet in surprise. For the moment a sudden fear drew
+the color from his cheeks.
+
+He looked apprehensively towards his unexpected visitor. Lord Runton,
+however, showed no signs of any great discomposure. He was wearing his
+ordinary dinner clothes, and in reply to Duncombe's first question
+assured him that he had dined.
+
+"I will try a glass of your port, if I may, George," he declared.
+"Thanks!"
+
+The butler had wheeled a chair up to the table for him, and left the
+room. Lord Runton filled his glass and sent the decanter round. Then he
+turned towards Spencer, to whom he had just been introduced.
+
+"Mr. Spencer," he said, "my visit to-night is mainly to you. I dare say
+you are aware that a somewhat unpleasant thing has happened at my house.
+My people tell me that you called there this morning and inquired for
+Mr. Fielding."
+
+Spencer nodded.
+
+"Quite true," he answered. "I called, but did not see him. He appears to
+have left somewhat hurriedly while I was waiting."
+
+"You did not even catch a glimpse of him?"
+
+"No!"
+
+"You know Mr. Fielding by sight, I presume?"
+
+"I have seen him in Paris once or twice," Spencer answered.
+
+"You will not think me impertinent for asking you these questions, I am
+sure," Lord Runton continued apologetically, "but could you describe Mr.
+Fielding to me?"
+
+"Certainly," Spencer answered. "He was tall and thin, wears glasses, was
+clean-shaven, bald, and limped a little."
+
+Lord Runton nodded.
+
+"Thank you," he said. "I presume that your visit this morning was one of
+courtesy. You are acquainted with Mr. Fielding?"
+
+"I have not that pleasure," Spencer answered. "I am afraid I must
+confess that my visit was purely one of curiosity."
+
+"Curiosity!" Lord Runton repeated.
+
+"Exactly. Do you mind passing those excellent cigarettes of yours,
+Duncombe?"
+
+Lord Runton hesitated for a moment. He was conscious of a certain
+restraint in Spencer's answers. Suddenly he turned towards him.
+
+"Mr. Spencer," he said, "may I ask if you are Mr. Jarvis Spencer, of the
+'Daily Messenger'--the Mr. Spencer who was mentioned in connection with
+the investigations into the Lawson estates?"
+
+Spencer nodded.
+
+"Yes," he said, "I am that person."
+
+"Then," Lord Runton continued, "I want to tell you exactly what has
+happened to-day in my house, and to ask your advice. May I?"
+
+"If our host has no objection," Spencer answered, glancing towards
+Pelham.
+
+"None whatever," Duncombe answered, also glancing towards Pelham.
+
+There was a moment's silence. Pelham raised his head.
+
+"If Lord Runton desires it, I will withdraw," he said slowly. "At the
+same time I must confess that I, too, am interested in this matter. If
+Lord Runton has no objection to my presence I should like to remain. My
+discretion goes without saying."
+
+Duncombe moved uneasily in his chair. His eyes sought Spencer's for
+guidance, but found his head averted. Lord Runton raised his eyebrows
+slightly at what he considered a somewhat vulgar curiosity, but his
+reply was prompt.
+
+"You are a friend of Duncombe's, Mr. Pelham," he said, "and that is
+enough. I have to ask not only you, but all three of you, to consider
+what I am going to tell you as absolutely confidential."
+
+They all signified their assent. Lord Runton continued:--
+
+"Mr. and Miss Fielding came to me with letters from my brother, and with
+many convincing proofs of their identity. We none of us had the
+slightest suspicion concerning them. Their behavior was exactly what it
+should have been. Nothing about them excited remark in any way, except
+the unusual number of telegrams and telephone messages which Mr.
+Fielding was always receiving. That, however, was quite in accord with
+our ideas of an American business man, and didn't seem to us in the
+least remarkable."
+
+"The telegrams were delivered through a neighboring office?" Spencer
+asked quietly.
+
+"Yes," Lord Runton answered, "but they were all in code. I happen to
+know that because the postmaster brought the first one up himself, and
+explained that he was afraid that he must have made some mistake as the
+message was incomprehensible. Fielding only laughed, and gave the man a
+sovereign. The message was absolutely correct, he declared. He told me
+afterwards that whenever he was speculating he always coded his
+messages, and it seemed perfectly reasonable."
+
+Spencer nodded.
+
+"Just so!" he murmured.
+
+"This morning," Lord Runton continued, "Mr. Fielding rather upset our
+plans. We were all to have spent the day at the Duke's, and dined there.
+There was a big shoot for the men, as you know. At breakfast-time,
+however, Mr. Fielding announced that he had a man coming over with a
+motor car from Norwich for them to try, and begged to be excused. So we
+had to go without them.
+
+"Von Rothe was staying with me, as you know, and just before we started
+he had a telegram that a messenger from the Embassy was on his way down.
+He hesitated for some time as to whether he ought not to stay at home so
+as to be here when he arrived, but we persuaded him to come with us, and
+promised to send him back after luncheon. When we got to Chestow,
+however, the wind had become a gale, and it was impossible to shoot
+decently. Von Rothe was a little uneasy all the time, I could see, so he
+and I and a few of the others returned here, and the rest went up to
+Chestow. Just as we arrived Fielding passed us in a great motor car with
+his daughter behind. When we got to the house Von Rothe inquired for the
+messenger. He was told that he was in Mr. Fielding's sitting-room, but
+when we got there we found the door locked, and through the key-hole we
+could hear a man groaning. We broke the door in and found Von Rothe's
+messenger half unconscious, and a rifled despatch box upon the floor. He
+has given us no coherent account of what has happened yet, but it is
+quite certain that he was attacked and robbed by Mr. Fielding."
+
+"What was stolen?" Spencer asked. "Money?"
+
+"No, a letter," Lord Runton answered. "Von Rothe says very little, but I
+never saw a man so broken up. He has left for London to-night."
+
+"The matter is in the hands of the police, of course?" Spencer asked.
+
+Lord Runton shook his head.
+
+"Von Rothe took me into his room and locked the door a few minutes after
+we had discovered what had happened. He implored me to keep the whole
+affair from the Press and from publicity in any form. His whole career
+was at stake, he said, and very much more than his career. All that we
+could do was to follow Mr. Fielding and drag him back by force if we
+could. Even then he had little hope of recovering the letter. We did our
+best, but, of course, we had no chance. Mr. Fielding and his daughter
+simply drove off. Von Rothe is dealing with the affair in his own way."
+
+"It is a most extraordinary story," Spencer said quietly.
+
+Lord Runton turned towards him.
+
+"I have treated you with confidence, Mr. Spencer," he said. "Will you
+tell me now why you called at my house to see Mr. Fielding to-day?"
+
+Spencer hesitated, but only for a moment.
+
+"Certainly," he said. "I came because I knew that Mr. Fielding was
+half-way to America, and his daughter in Russia. Some friends of mine
+were curious to know who your guests could be."
+
+Pelham raised his head.
+
+"You lied to me then!" he exclaimed.
+
+"I had as much right to lie to you," Spencer answered calmly, "as you
+had to ask me questions. I had----"
+
+He stopped short in the middle of his sentence. The faces of the three
+men were a study in varying expressions. From some other part of the
+house there came to them the sound of a woman's sudden cry of
+terror--the cry of a woman who had awakened suddenly to look into the
+face of death. Duncombe's uplifted glass fell with a crash upon the
+table. The red wine trickled across the table-cloth.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+LORD RUNTON IS SUSPICIOUS
+
+
+Duncombe was out of the room in a very few seconds. The others hesitated
+for a moment whether to follow him or not. Spencer was the first to rise
+to his feet and moved towards the door. Lord Runton and Pelham followed
+a moment or two later. Outside in the hall the house was perfectly
+silent.
+
+Duncombe reached the library door just in time to find himself
+confronted by half a dozen of the men and women servants coming from the
+back of the house. With his hand upon the door-knob he waved them back.
+
+"Be so good, Mrs. Harrison," he said to the housekeeper, "as to keep
+better order in the servants' hall. We could hear some girls calling or
+laughing in the dining-room."
+
+"Indeed, sir," Mrs. Harrison answered with some dignity, "the noise,
+whatever it was, did not come from the servants' quarters. We fancied
+that it came from your library."
+
+"Quite impossible," Duncombe answered coolly. "If I require any one I
+will ring."
+
+He passed through the door and locked it on the inside. In half a dozen
+hasty strides he was across the room and inside the smaller apartment
+where he had left the girl. With a little gasp of relief he realized
+that she was there still. She was pale, and a spot of color was blazing
+in her cheeks. Her hair and dress were a little disordered. With
+trembling fingers she was fastening a little brooch into her blouse as
+he entered. A rush of night air struck him from a wide-open window.
+
+"What has happened?" he called out.
+
+"I have been terrified," she answered. "I am sorry I called out. I could
+not help it. A man came here--through the window. He talked so fast that
+I could scarcely hear what he said, but he wanted that paper. I tried to
+make him understand that I had not got it, but he did not believe
+me--and he was rude."
+
+Duncombe shut down the window, swearing softly to himself.
+
+"I cannot stay with you," he said, "just now. The whole house is alarmed
+at your cry. Listen!"
+
+There was a loud knocking at the library door. Duncombe turned hastily
+away.
+
+"I must let them in," he said. "I will come back to you."
+
+She pointed to the window.
+
+"He is coming back," she said, "at twelve o'clock."
+
+"Do you wish me to give up the paper?" he asked.
+
+"No."
+
+"Very well. I will be with you when he comes--before then. I must get
+rid of these men first."
+
+He closed the door softly, and drew the curtain which concealed it. Then
+he opened the library window, and a moment afterwards the door.
+
+"Come in, you fellows," he said. "I scarcely know what I was doing when
+I locked the door. I fancy one of the housemaids has been seeing ghosts
+in the garden. I saw something white in amongst the shrubs, but I could
+find nothing. Come on out with me."
+
+Spencer followed with a perfectly grave face. Lord Runton looked
+puzzled. Pelham did not attempt to leave the library. Spencer drew his
+host a little on one side.
+
+"What a rotten liar you are, George!" he said. "I don't think that even
+Runton was taken in."
+
+"I suppose it sounded a little thin," Duncombe answered coolly. "Put it
+this way, then, so far as you are concerned. The shriek occurred in my
+house. I've no explanation to offer to anybody."
+
+"I like the sound of that better, Duncombe," he remarked. "Hullo! What's
+the matter with Runton?"
+
+Lord Runton was calling to them.
+
+"You've had a visitor who was in a hurry, old chap!" he remarked. "Send
+for a lantern."
+
+Duncombe concealed his annoyance.
+
+"I don't want to alarm the whole household," he said. "I've a little
+electric torch in my study. I'll fetch that."
+
+He brought it out. The progress of a man from the road to the small
+window, towards which Duncombe glanced every now and then
+apprehensively, was marked by much destruction. The intruder had
+effected his exit either in great haste or in a singularly unfortunate
+manner. He had apparently missed the gate, which at this point was only
+a small hand one, and in clambering over the fence he had broken the
+topmost strand of wire. He had blundered into a bed of wallflowers,
+which were all crushed and downtrodden, and snapped off a rose tree in
+the middle. Below the window were distinct traces of footmarks. Lord
+Runton, who held the torch, was becoming excited.
+
+"Duncombe," he said, "there is something which I have not told you yet.
+I have had numerous reports in about the car, and was able to trace it
+as far as Lynn, but they all agreed in saying that it contained only two
+persons--the driver and the man who called himself Fielding. What became
+of the girl?"
+
+"I have no idea," Duncombe answered steadily.
+
+"Of course not," Lord Runton continued, "but don't you think it possible
+that--without your knowledge, of course--she may be hidden somewhere
+about here? That cry was not like the cry of a housemaid. Let us have
+the whole place searched."
+
+Duncombe shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"As you will," he answered. "I am certain, however, that it will be
+useless. There is no place here where any one could hide."
+
+"Your servants may know something," Runton suggested.
+
+"I have already questioned them," Duncombe answered.
+
+"Come along, Mr. Spencer," Lord Runton exclaimed, "let us search the
+grounds."
+
+Spencer shook his head.
+
+"Waste of time, Lord Runton," he answered. "If you really want to
+discover the whereabouts of this missing young lady, and she should by
+any chance be close at hand, I should recommend you to induce Sir George
+to let you search the room to which those footsteps lead."
+
+"The library," Duncombe interrupted quickly. "Search it by all means, if
+you like. I have done so myself already."
+
+Spencer was facing the house.
+
+"The library!" he remarked reflectively. "Ah!"
+
+He stooped down to light a cigarette. Suddenly he felt Duncombe's hot
+breath upon his cheek. In the momentary glow of the match he caught a
+silhouette of a pale, angry face, whose eyes were flashing upon him.
+
+"This isn't your affair, Spencer. Shut up!"
+
+Spencer blew out the match deliberately. They both followed Lord Runton
+to the library. Pelham was standing in the middle of the room. He had
+the appearance of a man listening intently.
+
+"George," he asked sharply, "what is on the north side of this room?"
+
+"The wall!" Duncombe answered.
+
+"And beyond?"
+
+"A passage and the billiard-room."
+
+Pelham seemed dissatisfied.
+
+"I fancied," he muttered--"but I suppose it must have been fancy. Do the
+women servants use that passage?"
+
+"Of course! Upon my word," Duncombe added, with a nervous little laugh,
+"you all seem to be trying to make my house into a Maskelyne and Cooke's
+home of mystery. Let us go into the dining-room and have a whisky and
+soda."
+
+"Not for me, thanks," Lord Runton declared. "I must go back. The real
+object of my coming here, Duncombe, was to see if the Mr. Spencer who
+called at Runton Place to-day was really Mr. Jarvis Spencer, and if so
+to ask him whether he would help me."
+
+"To what extent, Lord Runton?" Spencer asked quietly.
+
+"To the extent of recovering, or attempting to recover, the papers which
+were stolen from the Baron Von Rothe," Lord Runton said. "The Baron was
+a guest in my house, and I feel the occurrence very much. He will not
+let me even mention the matter to the police, but I feel sure that he
+could not object to Mr. Spencer's taking the matter in hand."
+
+"I think you will find," Spencer said, "that Von Rothe has already
+placed the matter in the hands of his own people. The German secret
+service is pretty active over here, you know. I have come in contact
+with it once or twice."
+
+"Nevertheless, for my own satisfaction," Lord Runton continued, "I
+should like the matter inquired into by you, Mr. Spencer."
+
+"I am not quite sure whether I am free to help you or not," Spencer said
+slowly. "May I come and see you to-morrow morning?"
+
+"If you prefer it," Lord Runton said doubtfully. "Come as early as
+possible. Good night, Duncombe! I should like to know who your nocturnal
+visitor was."
+
+"If he comes again," Duncombe said, "I may be able to tell you."
+
+He walked to his desk, and taking out a revolver, slipped it into his
+pocket. Then he rang the bell for Lord Runton's carriage. It seemed to
+Duncombe that there was a shade of coolness in his visitor's manner as
+he took his leave. He drew Spencer a little on one side.
+
+"I want you to promise to come and see me in any case to-morrow
+morning," he said. "There is something which I should prefer saying to
+you in my own house to saying here."
+
+Spencer nodded.
+
+"Very well," he said, "I will come. I can promise that much at least."
+
+Lord Runton departed. Pelham went off to bed. Spencer and his host were
+left alone in the library.
+
+"Billiards, or a whisky and soda in the smoke-room?" the latter asked.
+"I know that you are not a late bird."
+
+"Neither, thanks. Just a word with you here," Spencer answered.
+
+Duncombe paused on his way to the door. Spencer was standing in a
+reflective attitude, with his hands behind his back, gently balancing
+himself upon his toes.
+
+"I am very much disposed," he said, "to accept Lord Runton's offer. Have
+you any objection?"
+
+"Of course I have," Duncombe answered. "You are working for me."
+
+"Was working for you," Spencer corrected gently. "That is all over,
+isn't it?"
+
+"What do you mean?" Duncombe exclaimed.
+
+Spencer stood squarely upon his feet. He looked a little tired.
+
+"My engagement from you was to find Miss Phyllis Poynton," he said
+softly. "You and I are perfectly well aware that the young lady in
+question is--well, a few yards behind that curtain," he said, motioning
+with his head towards it. "My task is accomplished, and I consider
+myself a free man."
+
+Duncombe was silent for a moment. He walked restlessly to the window and
+back again.
+
+"How did you find out that she was here?" he asked.
+
+Spencer looked a little disgusted.
+
+"My dear fellow," he said, "any one with the brains of a mouse must have
+discovered that. Why, Lord Runton, without any of the intimations which
+I have received, is a little suspicious. That is merely a matter of A B
+C. There were difficulties, I admit, and I am sorry to say that I have
+never solved them. I cannot tell you at this moment how it comes about
+that a young lady, brought up in the country here, and from all I can
+learn an ordinary, unambitious, virtuous sort of young person, should
+disappear from England in search of a missing brother, and return in a
+few months the companion of one of the most dangerous and brilliant
+members of the French secret service. This sort of thing is clean beyond
+me, I admit. I will be frank with you, Duncombe. I have met with
+difficulties in this case which I have never met with before--peculiar
+difficulties."
+
+"Go on!" Duncombe exclaimed eagerly.
+
+"I have many sources of information in Paris," Spencer continued slowly.
+"I have acquaintances amongst waiters, cabmen, cafe-proprietors,
+detectives, and many such people. I have always found them most useful.
+I went amongst them, making careful inquiries about Phyllis Poynton and
+her brother. They were like men struck dumb. Their mouths were closed
+like rat-traps. The mention of either the boy or the girl seemed to
+change them as though like magic from pleasant, talkative men and women,
+very eager to make the best of their little bit of information, into
+surly idiots, incapable of understanding or answering the slightest
+question. It was the most extraordinary experience I have ever come
+across."
+
+Duncombe was breathlessly interested.
+
+"What do you gather from it?" he asked eagerly.
+
+"I can only surmise," Spencer said slowly, "I can only surmise the
+existence of some power, some force or combination of forces behind all
+this, of the nature of which I am entirely ignorant. I am bound to admit
+that there is a certain amount of fascination to me in the contemplation
+of any such thing. The murder of that poor girl, for instance, who was
+proposing to give you information, interests me exceedingly."
+
+Duncombe shuddered at the recollection. The whole scene was before him
+once more, the whole series of events which had made his stay in Paris
+so eventful. He laid his hand upon Spencer's arm.
+
+"Spencer," he said, "you speak as though your task were accomplished. It
+isn't. Phyllis Poynton may indeed be where you say, but if so it is
+Phyllis Poynton with the halter about her neck, with the fear of
+terrible things in her heart. It is not you nor I who is the jailer of
+her captivity. It is some power which has yet to be discovered. Our task
+is not finished yet. To-night I will try to question her about this
+network of intrigue into which she seems to have been drawn. If she will
+see you, you too shall ask her about it. Don't think of deserting us
+yet."
+
+"My dear Duncombe," Spencer said, "I may as well confess at once that
+the sole interest I felt in Lord Runton's offer was that it is closely
+connected with the matter we have been discussing."
+
+"You shall have my entire confidence, Spencer," Duncombe declared. "The
+man who called himself Fielding was badly wounded, and he passed here
+almost unconscious. He entrusted the paper or letter, or whatever it
+was, he stole from Von Rothe's messenger, to his so-called daughter, and
+she in her turn passed it on to me. It is at this moment in my
+possession."
+
+Spencer looked very serious.
+
+"My dear fellow," he said, "I congratulate you upon your pluck, but not
+upon your discretion. You are interfering in what may turn out to be a
+very great matter--a matter in which a few lives are like the pawns
+which are swept from the chess-board. Does any one know this?"
+
+"She and I only! You heard her shriek?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"A man threw up her window and climbed in. He demanded the packet. He
+searched the room. When he left her he declared that he should return at
+twelve to-night, and if she did not hand it to him then he threatened
+her."
+
+Spencer smiled, and rubbed his hands softly together.
+
+"Really," he murmured, "this is most interesting. I am with you,
+Duncombe. With you altogether! There is only one more question."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"You did not know Phyllis Poynton. You took up this search for her out
+of your friendship for Pelham. You are a rich man, young, strong, with
+every capacity for enjoyment. What induces you to risk your life in an
+adventure of this sort? You see, I don't mince words."
+
+Then Duncombe became grave. His face fell into firm, hard lines. Yet as
+he spoke there was something boyish about his expression.
+
+"It is a fair question," he answered. "You won't understand me. I don't
+understand myself. I've a brilliant galaxy of fools behind me. They've
+made the pages of history interesting. They've been the butt always of
+wiser men such as you, Spencer. The girl in that room may be Phyllis
+Poynton or the worst adventuress who ever lied her way through the mazes
+of intrigue, but I love her! She's in my life--a part of it. If I lose
+her--well, you know what life is like when the flame has gone and only
+the embers burn."
+
+Spencer nodded very softly.
+
+"That is sufficient!" he said. "You speak of things that I myself do not
+understand. But that is nothing. I know that they exist. But----"
+
+"Well?"
+
+"But what about Pelham?"
+
+"Pelham has no prior claim," he answered. "As soon as she is safe he
+shall know the whole truth. I would tell him at this moment but that I
+am a little afraid of him. He would never understand, as we can, the
+intricacy of the situation. And now--to the prosaic."
+
+He rang the bell.
+
+"Groves," he told the butler, "I am hungry. Bring me in anything you can
+rake up for supper on a tray, and a pint of champagne."
+
+Spencer raised his eyebrows and smiled. Duncombe nodded.
+
+"For her, of course," he said. "I am going to take it in, and I want you
+to stay here. It is past eleven o'clock already."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+HER FIRST KISS
+
+
+"I was never," she declared, "quite so pleased to see any one in all my
+life. I was wondering whether it would occur to you that I was
+starving."
+
+He set the tray down for her, placed a chair in front of the table, and
+busied himself opening the wine. All the time he was looking at her.
+
+"Whatever have you been doing to yourself?" he asked at length.
+
+She laughed softly.
+
+"Oh, I had to amuse myself somehow," she answered. "I've done my hair a
+new way, rearranged all my ornaments, and really I don't think a man has
+a right to such a delightful manicure set. I felt terribly nervous in
+the lavatory, though. I could hear some one in the billiard-room all the
+time."
+
+"That's all right!" he declared. "I've locked the door there, and have
+the key in my pocket. No one can get in from that side."
+
+"Please talk, and don't watch me," she begged. "I'm ashamed to be so
+hungry."
+
+He smiled and helped her to some more chicken. If he talked he was
+scarcely conscious of what he said. All the time his eyes kept straying
+towards her. She had taken off her jacket and was dressed simply enough
+in a blouse of some soft white material and a dark skirt. Everything,
+from the ornaments at her neck, the dull metal waistband, and the trim
+shoes, seemed to him to be carefully chosen, and the best of their sort.
+She wore no rings, and her fingers had the rosy pinkness of health. If
+she had seemed graceful to him before in the drawing-room of Runton
+Place, and surrounded by some of the most beautiful women in the
+country, she seemed more than ever so now, seated in the somewhat worn
+chair of his little studio. The color, too, seemed to have come back to
+her cheeks. She seemed to have regained in some measure her girlishness.
+Her eyes were ever ready to laugh into his. She chattered away as though
+the world after all contained nothing more serious for her than for any
+other girl. Duncombe hated to strike another note, yet he knew that
+sooner or later it must be done.
+
+"You are quite sure that you will not have anything else?" he asked.
+
+"Absolutely, thanks! I have never enjoyed anything so much in my life."
+
+He glanced at his watch. It was half-past eleven.
+
+"I am afraid," he said, "that I am going to be a nuisance to you, but
+one's friends often are that. I want to be your friend. I want to prove
+myself such. I am not an inquisitive person, by any means, but fate has
+declared that I should be your inquisitor. There are some questions
+which I am bound to ask you."
+
+Her face grew suddenly grave.
+
+"There is so little," she murmured, "which I can tell you."
+
+"We shall see," he answered. "In the first place, Lord Runton has been
+here. He is one of my oldest friends, and a very good fellow. He came to
+tell me that Von Rothe had been robbed in his house of some valuable
+papers. He came partly to ask my advice. All the time I was sitting
+opposite to him, with those papers in my pocket."
+
+She looked at him strangely.
+
+"Perhaps," she said quietly, "you gave them up to him."
+
+"I did not," he answered. "You know very well that I did not."
+
+"It was your duty," she said in a low tone.
+
+"Perhaps so. On the other hand," he continued, "you trusted me. The
+papers are safe."
+
+"Does he know that you have them?" she asked.
+
+"He knows nothing!"
+
+She looked at him steadfastly--not with any appearance of doubting his
+word, and yet as though she were revolving something in her mind
+concerning him.
+
+"I am thinking," she said, "how much better it would have been for both
+of us if we had never met."
+
+"The fates thought otherwise," he answered. "I searched Paris for you,
+only to find you at my gates. The fates meant you to be my friend. We
+must be careful not to disappoint them."
+
+She shook her head a little wistfully.
+
+"You have been very good to me," she said, "but you don't
+understand----"
+
+"Precisely!" he interrupted. "I don't understand. I want to. To begin
+with--what in this world induced you to throw in your lot even for an
+hour with the man who called himself Fielding?"
+
+"I can answer no questions concerning myself," she said sadly.
+
+He smiled.
+
+"Come," he said, "it isn't so serious as all that, is it? Sooner or
+later your friends are sure to find you, and they will not be content
+with such a statement as that. You were summoned one day to Paris by or
+on behalf of your brother, who had unaccountably disappeared there. You
+immediately appear to have followed suit. You had no friends in
+Paris--neither, I think, had he. I believe I am correct in saying that
+you had neither of you ever been there before. If your brother has
+fallen into bad hands, and if those same people are trying to work upon
+your fears by leading you into this sort of thing--well, I have friends
+who are powerful enough to bring you safely out of any den of thieves in
+the world. You are in an impossible situation, my dear young lady.
+Nature never meant you for an adventuress. There is no necessity for you
+to become one. Why do you look at me like that?"
+
+There was terror in her face. He had hoped to reassure her, to give her
+courage. On the contrary every word he spoke only seemed to increase her
+distress.
+
+"Oh, I am afraid!" she murmured. "I wish I had taken my chance. I ought
+not to have burdened you for a moment with my affairs. I have given you
+the right to ask me questions which I cannot answer."
+
+He was perplexed.
+
+"If you have given promises to these people----" he began.
+
+"Oh, there is no question of promises," she interrupted. "I am here of
+my own free will. I refuse to answer any questions. I pray only if you
+would be generous that you ask me none, that you keep me until
+to-morrow, and let me go, not only from this place, but out of your
+life. Then indeed I will be grateful to you."
+
+He took her hand in his. She yielded it without any attempt at
+resistance, but it lay in his palm a cold, dead thing.
+
+"I am only concerned for your good," he said gently. "It is your
+happiness only that I am anxious for. You were not born or trained for a
+life of lies and crime. I want to save you from it before it is too
+late."
+
+"What I do," she said slowly, "I do of my own free will."
+
+"Not quite, I think," he answered, "but let that pass. Listen! If you
+will not talk to me about these things, will you talk to my friend,
+Jarvis Spencer? He is a gentleman, and a journalist by profession, but
+he is also one of the cleverest amateur detectives in England."
+
+She held up her hands with a little gesture of horror. Her eyes were
+alight with fear.
+
+"No!" she cried. "No! A thousand times, no! Don't let him come near me,
+please. Oh, I wish I could make you understand," she continued
+helplessly. "You yourself in Paris only a few weeks ago were in terrible
+danger. A girl who only gave, or meant to give, you information about my
+brother and me was murdered. You, too, would have been killed if you had
+found anything out."
+
+He would have answered her lightly, but the memory of Mademoiselle
+Flossie lying dead upon the bed in that gloomy little room suddenly rose
+up before him, and the words died away upon his lips. He was silent for
+a moment, and glanced again at his watch. It wanted only five minutes
+to twelve. He came and leaned over her chair.
+
+"Phyllis," he said, "what am I to do about you? I cannot let you go out
+of my life like this. No, you must listen to me for a moment. When
+Pelham sent for me after you had disappeared he showed me your picture.
+I am not exactly the sort of man of whom knight-errants are made. I have
+never gone a mile out of my way to meet any woman in my life. My life
+here has seemed of all things the best to me. I am a dull, unambitious
+sort of fellow, you know, since I settled down here, and I expected to
+go on for the rest of my days pretty much in the same way. And yet when
+Pelham showed me your picture it was different. I made him give a copy
+to me. I told him--liar that I was--that I could not carry the memory of
+your face in my mind, when it was already engraven in my heart. And I
+went off to Paris, Phyllis, like the veriest Don Quixote, and I came
+back very sad indeed when I could not find you. Then you came to Runton
+Place, and the trouble began. I did not care who you were, Phyllis
+Poynton, Sybil Fielding, or any one else. I let the others dispute. You
+were--yourself, and I love you, dear. Now do you understand why I cannot
+let you go away like this?"
+
+He had both her hands in his now, but her face was turned away. Then
+without any warning, there came a soft rapping at the door which led
+into the library.
+
+Duncombe reached it in a couple of strides. He opened it cautiously, and
+found Spencer standing there.
+
+"I thought it best to let you know," he said, "that a carriage has
+stopped in the lane. If I can be of any assistance I shall be here--and
+ready."
+
+Duncombe nodded and closed the door. The girl was sitting upright in her
+chair, with the old look of fear in her eyes.
+
+"Who was that?" she asked quickly.
+
+"Spencer," he answered. "He discovered your presence here, but he is
+perfectly discreet. He knocked to tell me that a carriage has stopped in
+the lane outside."
+
+She was white with fear, but he only laughed, and stooping down would
+have taken her hands once more. But at that moment an unexpected sound
+intervened. The deep silence of the house was broken by the ringing of
+the front door bell.
+
+Duncombe started back. The girl half rose to her feet.
+
+"The front door!" he exclaimed. "The servants will have gone to bed. I
+must answer it myself."
+
+She clung to him with a sudden abandon. She was white to the lips.
+
+"I am afraid," she moaned. "Don't leave me alone."
+
+He glanced towards the window.
+
+"By Jove, it may be a trap!" he exclaimed. "Let them ring. I'll stay
+here with you."
+
+They stood hand in hand listening. His head was turned towards the door,
+but the gentle pressure of her fingers drew him round. Her face was
+upturned to his. Something of the fear had gone. There was an eager,
+almost desperate, light in her softened eyes, and a tinge of color in
+her cheeks. He caught her into his arms, and their lips met. She
+disengaged herself almost immediately.
+
+"I don't care," she said with a little laugh. "That is the first kiss I
+have ever given to a man, and very likely it will be the last. You
+won't be able to say that I have gone away without paying my bill. Now
+go and open the front door, Sir George."
+
+He hesitated for a moment.
+
+"Say only the word, Phyllis, and no one in the world shall ever take you
+away."
+
+She did not even answer him. He left her with a little sigh.
+
+"Spencer," he said, "if you hear the slightest noise in that room go in
+and shout for me."
+
+Spencer nodded. The front door bell rang again.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+THE EMPTY ROOM
+
+
+Duncombe unfastened the chain and bolts of the ponderous front door, and
+looked out into the darkness. A carriage and pair of horses were drawn
+up outside. A man and a woman, both dressed in long travelling-coats,
+were standing upon the door-step.
+
+"This is Duncombe Hall, I believe?" the man said. "Is Sir George
+Duncombe at home?"
+
+"I am Sir George Duncombe," he answered. "Will you come inside?"
+
+They crossed the threshold at once. The man was tall and dark, and his
+voice and bearing were unmistakable. The woman was fair, _petite_, and
+apparently very sleepy. She wore magnificent furs, and she had the air
+of being in a very bad temper.
+
+"We really are heartily ashamed of ourselves for disturbing you at such
+an hour, Sir George," the man said, "but you will pardon us when you
+understand the position. I am the Marquis de St. Ethol, and this is my
+wife. I have a letter to you from my friend the Duke of Chestow, with
+whom we have been staying."
+
+Duncombe concealed his astonishment as well as he was able. He bowed to
+the lady, and led them towards the library. Spencer, who had heard them
+coming, had hastily concealed his revolver, and was lounging in an
+easy-chair reading the evening paper.
+
+"I am afraid that my servants are all in bed," Duncombe said, "and I can
+offer you only a bachelor's hospitality. This is my friend, Mr.
+Spencer--the Marquis and Marquise de St. Ethol. Wheel that easy-chair
+up, Spencer, will you?"
+
+Spencer's brow had betrayed not the slightest sign of surprise, but
+Duncombe fancied that the Marquis had glanced at him keenly. He was
+holding a note in his hand, which he offered to Duncombe.
+
+"My errand is so unusual, and the hour so extraordinary," he said, "that
+I thought it would be better for Chestow to write you a line or two.
+Will you please read it?"
+
+Duncombe tore open the envelope.
+
+       "CHESTOW, _Wednesday Evening_.
+
+     "MY DEAR DUNCOMBE,--My friend De St. Ethol tells me
+     that he is obliged, at great personal inconvenience, to
+     execute a commission for a friend which involves a somewhat
+     unceremonious call upon you to-night. He desires me,
+     therefore, to send you these few lines. The Marquis de St.
+     Ethol and his wife are amongst my oldest friends. It gives me
+     great pleasure to vouch for them both in every way.
+
+     "Yours sincerely,
+
+       "CHESTOW."
+
+"The letter, I am afraid," the Marquis said, smiling, "does little to
+satisfy your curiosity. Permit me to explain my errand in a few words."
+
+"Certainly," Duncombe interrupted. "But won't you take something? I am
+glad to see that Spencer is looking after your wife."
+
+The Marquise had raised her veil, and was leaning back in a chair, with
+a sandwich poised in the fingers of one hand and a glass of Burgundy in
+the other. She was looking a little less bored, and was chatting gayly
+to Spencer, whose French was equal to her own.
+
+"I thank you very much," the Marquis said. "I will not take anything to
+drink, but if you have cigarettes--ah, thanks!"
+
+He lit one, and sat on the arm of an easy-chair.
+
+"The facts are these," he said. "I have a great friend in Paris who,
+knowing that I was at Chestow, and returning to France to-morrow, has, I
+must say, taken some advantage of my good nature. I am asked to call
+here and escort home to her friends a young lady, who, I understand, is
+for the moment a guest under your roof. My friend, I must say,
+telegraphs in a most mysterious manner, but he is evidently very anxious
+that we should accede to his request. Our appearance here at this time
+of night I admit is most unjustifiable, but what were we to do? It is
+absolutely necessary for my wife to catch the two-twenty from Charing
+Cross to-morrow. I hope that my friend will some day appreciate my
+devotion. To come round by your house I have had to borrow a carriage
+from my friend Chestow. We shall have to drive to Norwich, and catch a
+train from there to London in the small hours of the morning. I presume
+the young lady is here?"
+
+"The young lady is here!" Duncombe answered. "May I inquire the name of
+the friend to whom you are asked to take her?"
+
+The Marquis yawned slightly. He, too, seemed weary.
+
+"My dear Sir George," he said, "I trust that you will appreciate my
+position in this matter. I do not even know the young lady's name. My
+eccentric friend in his telegram, which occupied four forms, most
+specially insisted that I should ask or answer no questions concerning
+her."
+
+"You are not aware, then, of the circumstances which led to her coming
+here?" Duncombe asked.
+
+"I am utterly ignorant of them," the Marquis answered. "I am constrained
+to remain so."
+
+"You no doubt have some message for her," Duncombe said. "Her position
+here is a little peculiar. She may desire some sort of information as to
+her destination."
+
+The Marquis knocked the ash off his cigarette.
+
+"If you will produce the young lady," he said, "I think that you will
+find her prepared to come with us without asking any questions."
+
+Duncombe threw open the door which led into the inner room. The girl
+stepped forward as far as the threshold and looked out upon them.
+
+"The Marquis and the Marquise de St. Ethol," Duncombe said to her. "They
+have brought me a letter from the Duke of Chestow, and they have come to
+take you back to France."
+
+The girl looked fixedly for a moment at the Marquise. If any word or
+sign passed between them it escaped Duncombe. Phyllis was content,
+however, to ask no questions.
+
+"I am quite ready," she said calmly.
+
+The Marquise rose.
+
+"Your luggage can be sent on," she remarked.
+
+Duncombe approached Phyllis, and stood by her side.
+
+"These people," he said, "will not tell me where they are taking you to.
+Are you content to go?"
+
+"I must go," she answered simply.
+
+"You wish me to give you----"
+
+"If you please," she interrupted.
+
+He turned towards the door.
+
+"I have something belonging to Miss--to my guest," he said, "in my own
+room. If you will excuse me for a moment I will fetch it."
+
+He returned with the sealed envelope which she had given him, and which
+he placed in her hands. He carried also a fur coat and an armful of
+wraps.
+
+"You must take these," he declared. "It is cold travelling."
+
+"But how can I return them to you?" she protested. "No, not the coat,
+please. I will take a rug if you like."
+
+"You will take both," he said firmly. "There need be no trouble about
+returning them. I shall be in Paris myself shortly, and no doubt we
+shall come across one another."
+
+Her eyes flashed something at him. What it was he could not rightly
+tell. It seemed to him that he saw pleasure there, and fear, but more of
+the latter. The Marquis intervened.
+
+"I trust," he said, "that in that case you will give us the pleasure of
+seeing something of you. We live in the Avenue de St. Cloud."
+
+"You are very kind," Duncombe said. "I shall not fail to come and see
+you."
+
+Spencer threw open the door, and they passed out. Phyllis kept by
+Duncombe's side. He felt her hand steal into his.
+
+"I want you to keep this envelope for me," she whispered. "It contains
+nothing which could bring you into trouble, or which concerns any one
+else. It is just something which I should like to feel was in safe
+keeping."
+
+He thrust it into his pocket.
+
+"I will take care of it," he promised. "And--you won't forget me? We
+shall meet again--sooner perhaps than you expect."
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"I hope to Heaven that we shall not! At least, not yet," she murmured
+fervently.
+
+From the carriage window she put out her hand.
+
+"You have been very kind to me," she said. "Good-bye!"
+
+"An impossible word," he answered, with well-affected gayety. "A
+pleasant journey to you."
+
+Then the carriage rolled away, and Spencer and he were left alone.
+Duncombe secured the front door, and they walked slowly back to the
+library.
+
+"You know Paris well," Duncombe said. "Have you ever heard of these
+people?"
+
+Spencer smiled.
+
+"My dear fellow!" he exclaimed. "De St. Ethol is one of the first nobles
+in France. I have seen him at the races many times."
+
+"Not the sort of people to lend themselves to anything shady?"
+
+"The last in the world," Spencer answered. "She was the Comtesse de
+Laugnan, and between them they are connected with half a dozen Royal
+houses. This business is getting exceedingly interesting, Duncombe!"
+
+But Duncombe was thinking of the empty room.
+
+
+
+
+BOOK II
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+GUY POYNTON AGAIN
+
+
+"I Suppose," the boy said thoughtfully, "I must seem to you beastly
+ungrateful. You've been a perfect brick to me ever since that night. But
+I can't help being a bit homesick. You see, it was really the first time
+I'd ever been away from home for long, and though my little place isn't
+a patch on this, of course, still, I was born there, and I'm jolly fond
+of it."
+
+His companion nodded, and his dark eyes rested for a moment upon the
+other's face. Guy Poynton was idly watching the reapers at work in the
+golden valley below, and he did not catch his friend's expression.
+
+"You are very young, _mon cher ami_," he said. "As one grows older one
+demands change. Change always of scene and occupation. Now I, too, am
+most hideously bored here, although it is my home. For me to live is
+only possible in Paris--Paris, the beautiful."
+
+Guy looked away from the fields. He resented a little his friend's air
+of superiority.
+
+"There's only a year's difference in our ages!" he remarked.
+
+Henri de Bergillac smiled--this time more expressively than ever, and
+held out his hands.
+
+"I speak of experience, not years," he said. "You have lived for twenty
+years in a very delightful spot no doubt, but away from everything which
+makes life endurable, possible even, for the child of the cities. I have
+lived for twenty-one years mostly in Paris. Ah, the difference!"
+
+Guy shrugged his shoulders, and leaned back in his chair.
+
+"Well," he said briefly, "tastes differ. I've seen quite all I want to
+of Paris for the rest of my life. Give me a fine June morning in the
+country, and a tramp round the farm, or an early morning start in
+September walking down the partridges, or a gray day in November with a
+good gee underneath, plenty of grass ahead, and hounds talking. Good
+God, I wish I were back in England."
+
+Henri smiled and caressed his upper lip, where symptoms of a moustache
+were beginning to appear.
+
+"My dear Guy," he said, "you speak crudely because you do not
+understand. You know of Paris only its grosser side. How can one learn
+more when he cannot even speak its language? You know the Paris of the
+tourist. The real magic of my beautiful city has never entered into your
+heart. Your little dabble in its vices and frivolities must not count to
+you as anything final. The joy of Paris to one who understands is the
+exquisite refinement, the unsurpassed culture, of its abysmal
+wickedness."
+
+"The devil!" Guy exclaimed. "Have you found out all that for yourself?"
+
+Henri was slightly annoyed. He was always annoyed when he was not taken
+seriously.
+
+"I have had the advantage," he said, "of many friendships with men
+whose names you would scarcely know, but who directed the intellectual
+tendencies of the younger generation of Parisians. People call us
+decadents--I suppose, because we prefer intellectual progression to
+physical activity. I am afraid, dear friend, that you would never be one
+of us."
+
+"I am quite sure of it," Guy answered.
+
+"You will not even drink absinthe," Henri continued, helping himself
+from a little carafe which stood between them, "absolutely the most
+artistic of all drinks. You prefer a thing you call a pipe to my
+choicest cigarettes, and you have upon your cheeks a color of which a
+ploughboy should be ashamed."
+
+Guy laughed good-humoredly.
+
+"Well, I can't help being sunburnt!" he declared. Henri sighed
+delicately.
+
+"Ah, it is not only that," he said. "I wish so much that I could make
+you understand. You positively cultivate good health, take cold baths
+and walks and exercises to preserve it."
+
+"Why the dickens shouldn't I?"
+
+Henri half closed his eyes. He was a dutiful nephew, but he felt that
+another month with this clodhopper of an English boy would mean the
+snapping of his finely strung nerves.
+
+"My friend," he began gently, "we in Paris of the set to whom I belong
+do not consider good health to be a state which makes for intellectual
+progression. Good health means the triumph of the physical side of man
+over the nervous. The healthy animal sleeps and eats too much. He does
+not know the stimulus of pain. His normal condition is unaspiring--not
+to say bovine. The first essential, therefore, of life, according to
+our tenets, is to get rid of superfluous health."
+
+Guy did not trust himself to speak this time. He only stared at his
+companion, who seemed pleased to have evoked his interest.
+
+"Directly the body is weakened," Henri continued, "the brain begins to
+act. With the indisposition for physical effort comes activity of the
+imagination. Cigarettes, drugs, our friend here," he continued, patting
+the carafe, "late nights, _la belle passion_--all these--all these----"
+
+He broke off in the middle of his sentence. Simultaneously he abandoned
+his carefully chosen attitude of studied languor. He was leaning forward
+in his chair watching a carriage which had just come into sight along
+the straight wide road which led from the outside world to the chateau.
+
+"The devil!" he exclaimed. "My respected uncle! Jacques!"
+
+A man-servant stepped out upon the terrace.
+
+"Monsieur!"
+
+"Remove the absinthe, Jacques. Monsieur le Duc arrives!"
+
+Guy, who also had been watching the carriage, gave utterance to a little
+exclamation. He pointed to two figures on horseback who rode behind the
+carriage.
+
+"The gendarmes!" he exclaimed. "They have come for me at last!"
+
+His face was no longer ruddy. The pallor of fear had crept to his
+cheeks. A note of despair rang in his voice.
+
+His companion only laughed.
+
+"Gendarmes, perhaps," he answered, "but not for you, my young friend.
+Have I not told you that you are in sanctuary here? A guest of the Duc
+de Bergillac evades all suspicion. Ah, I understand well those
+gendarmes. Let their presence cause you no anxiety, _cher monsieur_.
+They are a guard of honor for my reverend uncle and the personage who
+rides with him."
+
+Guy resumed his chair, and sat with his head buried in his hands in an
+attitude of depression. His companion leaned over the stone balustrade
+of the terrace and waved his hand to the occupants of the carriage
+below. They pulled up at the bottom of the steps and commenced slowly to
+ascend. In obedience to an imperious gesture from his uncle, Henri
+advanced to meet them. He greeted his uncle with graceful affection.
+Before the other man, although his appearance was homely and his dress
+almost untidy, he bowed very low indeed, and accepted his proffered hand
+as a mark of favor.
+
+The Duc de Bergillac was tall, sallow, with black moustache and
+imperial. He possessed all the personal essentials of the aristocrat,
+and he had the air of one accustomed to command.
+
+"Henri," he said, "your young friend is with you?"
+
+"But certainly," his nephew answered with a sigh. "Am I not always
+obedient? He has scarcely been out of my sight since we arrived."
+
+"Very good! You saw us arrive just now. Did you mention the name of
+Monsieur Grisson?" the Duke asked.
+
+"But certainly not!" Henri answered.
+
+The Duke nodded.
+
+"You have discretion," he said. "Monsieur Grisson is here incognito. He
+wishes to hear your young friend's story from his own lips."
+
+The Duke's companion nodded silently. He had the air of a silent man. He
+was short, inclined to be stout, and his dress and bearing were almost
+bourgeois. His features were large and not particularly intelligent, his
+cheeks were puffy, and his gray beard ill-humored. He had the double
+neck of the Frenchman of the lower class who has not denied himself the
+joys of the cuisine, and his appearance would have been hopelessly
+commonplace but for the deep-set brilliant black eyes which lit up his
+whole face and gave it an aspect of power.
+
+"After _dejeuner_, you understand," he said. "It is well that your young
+friend should not understand that I came here for no other reason. I
+will see first your manuscripts, Monsieur le Duc."
+
+The Duke waved his hand courteously to Guy as the two men passed along
+on their way to the library. Henri resumed his seat with a little shrug
+of the shoulders.
+
+"My respected uncle will bring such strange people here to see his
+manuscripts and collection of missals," he remarked. "For myself it is a
+hobby which wearies me. And you, _mon cher_ Guy?"
+
+"I know nothing about them," he answered. "But the gendarmes, Henri? Why
+did they ride with your uncle's carriage?"
+
+Henri smiled reassuringly.
+
+"The old gentleman," he said, "has something to do with the Government,
+and they were in attendance upon him. You can realize, my friend," he
+added, "that you are indeed in a republican country. Such people must
+have the _entree_ to our houses, even to our table. I presume that you
+will have the pleasure of taking luncheon with him even."
+
+A man-servant came out upon the terrace.
+
+"Monsieur le Duc desires me to say that luncheon is served," he
+announced.
+
+Henri passed his arm through his friend's.
+
+"Come," he said, "let us go and see if we can amuse ourselves with my
+uncle's venerable friend. I do not suppose that he speaks English, but I
+will interpret for you."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+AN OLD STORY
+
+
+Guy moved uneasily upon his chair. The color mounted almost to his
+forehead. It was a humiliation this, upon which he had not counted.
+Monsieur Grisson was sitting within a few feet of him. A serviette was
+tucked carefully underneath his collar, and his face was a little
+flushed with the exercise of eating. His eyes, however, were undimmed,
+and his manners, although a little brusque, had certainly not merited
+the epithet of bourgeois.
+
+"It isn't much of a story," Guy began, making a desperate effort. "It
+was my first visit to Paris, and I lost my head a bit. I drank too much
+wine and quarrelled with a fellow who certainly insulted me. They all
+told me that I must fight him, so----"
+
+"Stop, Monsieur Poynton!"
+
+Guy raised his head in surprise. The exclamation had come from the Duc
+de Bergillac. Monsieur Grisson was looking towards him as though for an
+explanation.
+
+"My dear young friend," the Duke remarked with a smile, "it is my
+stupidity which is to blame. I had forgotten the little matter to which
+you are alluding, and--between ourselves--it is one which is very much
+better not related to Monsieur Grisson. I was alluding to your other
+adventure--up in the Pozen forest."
+
+Guy for a moment was too astonished for words. Then he recovered himself
+with a little laugh and raised his head. There was nothing terrible in
+the other affair.
+
+"I will tell Monsieur Grisson about that with pleasure," he said, "if it
+is likely to interest him. I was in the North of Germany on a
+walking-tour, and I had rather a stupid fancy to go as far as the
+Russian frontier, and then return by Vienna to Paris. I was quite alone,
+and had no one's plans but my own to consult, so I started off from
+Steritz, I think the place was called. Well, we were within about forty
+miles of a place called Renzan when our train was stopped and shunted.
+We were told that some specials were to go by. I should think we must
+have waited there for an hour or more. Anyhow I got sick of it, and
+passed through the cars on to the rear platform, and down on to the
+line. I spoke to the guard, and I understood him to say that we should
+not be starting for at least half an hour. I strolled along the line a
+little way and stopped to light a pipe. Suddenly I heard a whistle, and
+when I turned round the rear light of the train was moving away. I
+shouted and ran as hard as I could, but it was no use. In less than two
+minutes the train was out of my sight, and I was left alone."
+
+The Duke pushed a small atlas across the table.
+
+"I wonder," he said, "if you could put your finger on about the spot
+where you were? Here, you see, is the railway line."
+
+Guy studied it for a few moments carefully, and looked at the scale.
+Then he pointed to a certain spot.
+
+"As near as I could say," he declared, "about there."
+
+The Duke and Monsieur Grisson exchanged quick glances. Guy was beginning
+to feel a little mystified.
+
+"Proceed, if you please," the Duke said courteously. "I am sure that
+Monsieur Grisson finds your story most interesting. Permit me."
+
+Guy sipped the _fin champagne_ from the glass which the Duke had
+carefully filled, and took a cigarette from the box at his elbow.
+
+"I found myself," he continued, "in the middle of a dense pine forest,
+with just sufficient clearing for two lines of rails and no more. There
+seemed to be nothing for me to do but to walk ahead in the direction
+which the train had taken. I lit a pipe and started out all right, but I
+very soon got tired. The sleepers were a long way apart, and the track
+between frightfully rough. I walked for hours without seeing the
+slightest sign of a station or a break in the woods, and finally I sat
+down dead beat. My feet were all blisters, and I felt that I couldn't
+walk another yard. Fortunately it was a warm night, and I made up my
+mind to crawl under the bracken just inside the wood and go to sleep. I
+found a comfortable place, and I'd just gone off when a noise close at
+hand woke me. I sat up and looked around.
+
+"Within a few feet of me an engine and a single carriage had pulled up.
+At intervals along the line as far as I could see soldiers were
+stationed like sentries. I could see that they were looking sharply up
+and down, and even a little way into the wood. From the train three or
+four men in long cloaks had already descended. They were standing in the
+track talking together."
+
+For the first time Monsieur Grisson interrupted. He took his cigar from
+his mouth and leaned over towards the young Englishman.
+
+"You were lost yourself. You did not accost them? Ask them the way
+anywhere?"
+
+"It seems odd, I suppose, that I didn't," Guy answered, "but do you know
+there was an air of secrecy about the whole thing which rather
+frightened me. And those soldiers had exactly the air of looking for
+somebody to shoot. Anyhow, while I was hesitating what to do, there was
+a whistle and another train came from the opposite direction. Then, of
+course, I waited to see what was going to happen."
+
+"And you saw?" the Duke began.
+
+"I saw another single carriage arrive, more men in long cloaks and more
+soldiers. There was a brief but hearty greeting between two men, who
+seemed to be the principals in this little pantomime. Then they both got
+into the train which had arrived first, and I could see them sitting at
+a table talking, and a third man, who seemed to be a sort of secretary,
+was writing all the time. In about half an hour they both stepped back
+on to the line, and every one commenced shaking hands and saying
+good-bye. Then the whole thing seemed to melt away. The trains went on,
+the soldiers climbed into a truck attached to one of them, and
+everything was just as quiet as before."
+
+"And afterwards?"
+
+"I waited until it was clear daylight, and then I resumed my walk along
+the line. I found the next station about five miles off, and I was
+thankful to see that the guard of the train which had left me behind had
+had the sense to put my luggage out there. I went to the hotel and had
+some breakfast, and afterwards I chucked my idea of going so far as the
+frontier, and left for Vienna. A week later I was in Paris."
+
+The Duke nodded.
+
+"I have asked you this question before," he said "but Monsieur Grisson
+is anxious to hear it from your own lips. To how many people did you
+tell this little adventure of yours before you reached Paris?"
+
+"To not a soul!" Guy answered. "I was very dull in Vienna. I found no
+one who could speak English and my few words of German did me no good at
+all. I came on to Paris within a week."
+
+The Duke nodded.
+
+"And in Paris for the first time!" he remarked. "You mentioned the
+affair?"
+
+"Yes! I took up an illustrated paper at a cafe on the night of my
+arrival whilst waiting for supper, and saw pictures of two men there who
+reminded me very much of the two whom I had seen on the railway near
+Pozen. I think I made some remark out loud which attracted the attention
+of a woman who was sitting at the next table, and later on I told her
+the whole story."
+
+"And since then?"
+
+"Since then I have told it to no one."
+
+"Was there any one in the cafe you have spoken of who seemed to take any
+particular interest in you?"
+
+Guy considered for a moment.
+
+"There was a young lady from Vienna," he said, "who seemed to want to
+talk to me."
+
+The two men exchanged glances.
+
+"Madame has justified herself," the Duke murmured.
+
+"She was trying to listen to what I was saying to the English
+girl--Mademoiselle Flossie, she called herself, and when she went away
+with her friends she threw me a note with two words on it--'_prenez
+garde!_' I know it struck me as being rather queer, because----"
+
+He hesitated. The Duke nodded.
+
+"Go on!" he said.
+
+"Well, I may as well tell you everything," Guy continued, "even if it
+does sound rather like rot. All the time I was in Vienna and on the
+journey to Paris I fancied that I was being followed. I kept on seeing
+the same people, and a man who got in at Strasburg--I had seen him
+before at the hotel in Vienna--tried all he could to pal up to me. I
+hate Germans though, and I didn't like the look of the fellow, so I
+wouldn't have anything to say to him, though I feel sure he tipped the
+conductor to put him in my compartment. I gave him the slip at the
+railway station at Paris, but I'm almost sure I saw him that night at
+the Cafe Montmartre."
+
+"Your story," Monsieur Grisson said quietly, "becomes more and more
+interesting. Monsieur le Duc here has hinted at some slight indiscretion
+of yours on the night of your arrival in Paris. I have some influence
+with the Government here, and I think I can promise you some very
+substantial help in return for the information you have given us. But I
+want you to turn your thoughts back to the night you spent by the
+railroad. Can you remember anything further about it, however trifling,
+which you have not told us?"
+
+Guy leaned back in his chair and thought for a moment.
+
+"By Jove," he declared, "there is something which I forgot altogether.
+Just before that little party in the railway saloon broke up the chap in
+the car who had been writing left his seat, and a loose page of paper
+fluttered through the window."
+
+The two men leaned across the table almost simultaneously.
+
+"What became of it?" the Duke asked sharply.
+
+"I picked it up and put it in my pocket," Guy answered.
+
+"Did you read it?" the Duke asked.
+
+"I couldn't! It was in German!"
+
+"Where is it now?" Monsieur Grisson demanded.
+
+Guy reflected. The faces of the two men amazed him. It was as though
+great things depended upon his answer.
+
+"It is with my pocketbook and my letter of credit. I remember that I
+kept it as a curiosity."
+
+"A curiosity!" the Duke exclaimed. "You have it here?"
+
+Guy shook his head.
+
+"It is in my portmanteau!" he answered.
+
+The faces of the two men betrayed their disappointment. They conversed
+for a few moments in rapid French. Then the Duke turned to Guy.
+
+"You do not object to our sending a trusted person to look through your
+portmanteau!" he asked. "Monsieur Grisson and I are very curious about
+that sheet of paper."
+
+"Certainly not," Guy answered. "But may I not have my luggage here?"
+
+The Duke shook his head.
+
+"Not yet," he said. "It would not be wise. We must give Monsieur
+Grisson time to arrange your little affair."
+
+"I don't want to seem a nuisance," Guy continued, "but about my sister?"
+
+"She has been assured of your safety," the Duke declared. "For the rest
+we will talk later in the day. Monsieur Grisson and I are going to the
+telephone. You will find Henri on the terrace."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+A BODY FROM THE SEINE
+
+
+"At the sport, my young friend," Henri murmured, from the depths of his
+basket chair, "I yield you without question supremacy. Your rude games,
+trials mostly of brute strength, do not interest me. Your horsemanship I
+must confess that I envy, and I fear that you are a better shot. But two
+things remain to me."
+
+"Only two?" Guy murmured. "What unexampled modesty!"
+
+"I can drive a racing automobile at eighty miles an hour, and with the
+foils I can play with you."
+
+"I give you the first," Guy answered, "but I'm beginning to fancy myself
+a bit with the sticks. Let's have a bout!"
+
+"My dear Guy," Henri exclaimed, "forgive me, but what a crude
+suggestion! The first breeze of the day is just coming up from the lake.
+Close your eyes as I do. Can't you catch the perfume of the roses and
+the late lilac? Exquisite. In half an hour you will see a new green in
+the woods there as the sun drops. This is silent joy. You would exchange
+it for vulgar movement."
+
+"I don't see anything vulgar about fencing," Guy replied. "It's all
+right here, of course, but I'm getting stiff, and I haven't the appetite
+of a kitten. I should like a good hour's bout, a swim afterwards in the
+baths, and a rub down. Come on, Henri! It'll make us as fit as
+possible."
+
+Henri shivered a little.
+
+"My young friend," he murmured, "you move me to despair. How can an
+alliance between nations with such contrary ideals be possible? You
+would desert a beautiful scene like this to gain by vulgar exercise an
+appetite that you may eat. Can't you realize the crudeness of it? Yet I
+must remember that you are my guest," he added, striking the bell by his
+side. "Antoine shall prepare my linen clothes, and I will give you a
+lesson. Antoine," he added, half turning to the man-servant who stood by
+his elbow, "my black linen fencing-clothes and shoes in the
+dressing-room, and have the floor in the fencing-gallery sprinkled with
+sand."
+
+The man bowed, and Henri slowly rose from his chair.
+
+"Don't bother about it, you know, if you mind very much," Guy said.
+"Would you rather have a game of billiards, or a swim in the lake?"
+
+Henri thrust his arm through his friend's.
+
+"By no means," he answered. "If we are to do anything at all we will do
+the thing in which I excel. It feeds my vanity, which is good for me,
+for by disposition I am over-modest."
+
+But they were not destined to fence that night, for on their way across
+the hall the Duke's own servant intercepted them.
+
+"Monsieur le Duc," he announced, "desires to speak with Monsieur in the
+library."
+
+Henri let go his friend's arm.
+
+"I return to the terrace, _mon ami_," he said. "You can fetch me when
+my respected uncle has finished with you."
+
+Monsieur le Duc and Monsieur Grisson were still together. Immediately
+the door was closed the former turned to Guy.
+
+"Your luggage has been thoroughly searched," he announced, "by a trusty
+agent. The letter of credit is still there, but the paper of which you
+spoke is missing."
+
+Guy looked a little incredulous.
+
+"I know it was there the evening I left the hotel," he answered. "It was
+fastened to my letter of credit by an elastic band. The man you sent
+must have missed it."
+
+The Duke shook his head.
+
+"That," he said, "is impossible. The paper has been abstracted."
+
+"But who could have known about it?" Guy protested.
+
+"Monsieur Poynton," the Duke said, "we think it well--Monsieur Grisson
+and I--to take you a little further into our confidence. Has it occurred
+to you, I wonder, to appreciate the significance of what you saw on the
+railway in the forest of Pozen?"
+
+"I'm afraid--not altogether," Guy answered.
+
+"We assumed as much," the Duke said. "What you did see was this. You saw
+a meeting between the German Emperor and the Czar of Russia. It was
+marvellously well arranged, and except those interested you were
+probably the only witness. According to the newspapers they were never
+less than four hundred miles apart, but on the day in question the
+Emperor was reported to be confined to his room by a slight chill, and
+the Czar to be resting after a fatiguing journey. You understand that
+this meeting was meant to be kept a profound secret?"
+
+Guy nodded.
+
+"But why?" he asked. "Was there any special reason why they should not
+meet?"
+
+"My young friend," the Duke answered gravely, "this meeting of which you
+were the only witness might, but for your chance presence there, have
+altered the destiny of Europe. Try how you will you cannot appreciate
+its far-reaching possibilities. I will endeavor to give you the bare
+outlines of the affair. Even you, I suppose, have observed or heard of
+the growing friendship between my country and yours, which has
+culminated in what is called the _entente cordiale_."
+
+"Yes, I know as much as that," Guy admitted.
+
+"This movement," the Duke said, "has been looked upon with growing
+distaste and disfavor in Russia. Russia is the traditional and
+inevitable enemy of your country. Russia had, I may go so far as to say,
+made up her mind for war with England very soon after her first reverses
+at the hands of Japan. I am telling you now what is a matter of common
+knowledge amongst diplomatists when I tell you that it was the attitude
+of my country--of France--which alone has stayed her hand."
+
+"This is very interesting," Guy said, "even to me, who have never taken
+any interest in politics, but----"
+
+"Wait! Russia, as I say, found us indisposed to back her in any quarrel
+with England. She turned then, of course, to Germany. We became aware,
+through our secret service, that something was on foot between the two
+countries. With our utmost vigilance we were unable to obtain any
+particulars. It is you, Monsieur Poynton, who have brought us the first
+information of a definite character."
+
+Guy looked his amazement, but he said nothing.
+
+"To you," the Duke continued, "a secret meeting between these two
+monarchs may not seem at all an astonishing thing. To us it is of the
+gravest political importance. Some sort of an understanding was arrived
+at between them. What was it? That sheet of paper which was once in your
+possession might very possibly contain the clue. Now you can appreciate
+its importance to us."
+
+"What an ass I was not to take more care of it!" Guy muttered.
+
+"There are other things to be considered," the Duke continued. "For the
+last month every dockyard in Germany has been working night and day, and
+we have authentic information as to a huge mobilization scheme which is
+already on foot. We might have wondered against whom these preparations
+were intended but for you. As it is, the English Government has been
+fully apprised of everything. Your magnificent fleet, under the pretext
+of seeing the Baltic Squadron safely on its way, has been gradually
+concentrated. From despatches to the German Ambassador which we have
+managed to intercept in England, we know that it is intended to raise a
+_casus belli_ during the presence of the squadron in British waters.
+Quite unexpectedly, as it was hoped, Germany was to range herself on
+Russia's side and strike against England. We, Russia's nominal ally,
+have had no intimation of this whatever. We are apparently left to
+ourselves--ignored. Our friendship with your country has destroyed
+Russia's friendship for us. She relies no doubt on our neutrality, and
+she makes terms, doubtless absurdly favorable ones, with our ancient
+enemy. In the eyes of the world France is to be made to appear
+ridiculous. The German Empire is to be ruled from London, and the
+Emperor Wilhelm's known ambition is to be realized."
+
+"It sounds," Guy admitted, "like a nightmare. I know you foreigners all
+think we English are a lot too cock-sure, but we have our own ideas, you
+know, about any attempt at invasion."
+
+"I am afraid," the Duke said, "that when it comes to throwing a million
+men at different points of your coasts protected by a superb navy you
+might find yourselves unpleasantly surprised. But let that pass. Have I
+said enough to make you understand the importance of what you saw in the
+forest of Pozen? Good! Now I want you to understand this. In the
+interests of your country and mine it is most important that the fact of
+our knowledge of this meeting should be kept a profound secret."
+
+"Yes," Guy said, "I understand that."
+
+"Your presence there," the Duke continued, "created a certain amount of
+suspicion. You were watched to Paris by German spies, and if they had
+had the least idea of how much you had seen your life would not have
+been worth five minutes' purchase. As it is they are uneasy over your
+disappearance. There are at least a dozen men and women in Paris and
+England to-day who are searching for you! You are moderately safe here,
+but not altogether. I want to put them finally off the scent. I might,
+of course, put you into such confinement that detection would be
+impossible. I do not want to do that. You have rendered your own country
+and mine an immense service. I prefer to treat you as a gentleman and a
+man of honor, and to take you, as I hope you will see that I have done,
+into our entire confidence."
+
+"Monsieur le Duc," Guy answered, "I can assure you that I appreciate all
+that you have said. I am willing to do exactly as you say."
+
+"To-morrow morning's papers," the Duke said slowly, "will contain an
+account of the finding of your body in the Seine."
+
+"My what!" Guy exclaimed.
+
+"Your body! We are going to stab and drown you. Perhaps I should say we
+are going to discover you stabbed and drowned."
+
+Guy half rose from his seat.
+
+"I say----" he began.
+
+"I need not explain, of course," the Duke continued, "that you will
+suffer by proxy. The whole affair has been carefully arranged by the
+commissioners of police.
+
+"An account of your doings since you arrived in Paris will be given,
+which I fear may not flatter you, but you must remember that it is
+necessary to put our German friends completely off the scent, and in a
+month's time or so you will reappear, and everything will be
+contradicted."
+
+"But my sister?" Guy exclaimed.
+
+"Concerning your sister," the Duke continued, "we have further
+explanations, perhaps I should say apologies, to offer you at some
+future time. For the present--this only. She is now in Paris. She is to
+some extent in our confidence, and you shall see her within the next few
+days."
+
+"And what are you going to do with me really?" Guy asked.
+
+"You will remain here. Half the servants of the household have been
+dismissed, and every one who is not absolutely trustworthy has been got
+rid of. We are in close consultation with your English Cabinet, and the
+moment the time arrives for us to disclose our knowledge of these
+secrets you will be free to go where you please."
+
+"Absolutely free?" Guy asked anxiously.
+
+"Certainly!" the Duke answered. "The other little affair is cancelled by
+your present services. In fact, as regards that, you need not give
+yourself another moment's anxiety."
+
+A small telephone which stood upon the table rang sharply. The Duke
+exchanged a few sentences and replaced the receiver. He turned to Guy.
+
+"It is an affair of the tides," he said. "Your body was washed up this
+afternoon, six hours before time. It will be in the evening papers. Ah!"
+
+The telephone rang again. This time it was Monsieur Grisson who was
+required. He listened for a moment or two with inscrutable countenance.
+Then he glanced at the clock.
+
+"The Russian Ambassador," he said, replacing the receiver, "desires an
+immediate interview with me on a matter of the utmost importance--and
+the Russian Fleet has left the Baltic!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE INSOLENCE OF MADAME LA MARQUISE
+
+
+Duncombe was passed from the concierge to a footman, and from a footman
+to a quietly dressed groom of the chambers, who brought him at last to
+Madame la Marquise. She gave him the tips of her fingers and a somewhat
+inquiring gaze.
+
+"Sir George Duncombe, is it not?" she remarked. "I am not receiving this
+afternoon, but your message was so urgent. Forgive me, but it was not by
+any chance my husband whom you wished to see?"
+
+"Your husband would have done as well, Madame," Duncombe answered
+bluntly, "but I learned that he was not at home. My visit is really to
+Miss Poynton. I should be exceedingly obliged if you would allow me the
+privilege of a few minutes' conversation with her."
+
+The forehead of the Marquise was wrinkled with surprise. She stood
+amidst all the wonders of her magnificent drawing-room like a dainty
+Dresden doll--petite, cold, dressed to perfection. Her manner and her
+tone were alike frigid.
+
+"But, Monsieur," she said, "that is wholly impossible. Mademoiselle is
+too thoroughly upset by the terrible news in the paper this morning. It
+is unheard of. Monsieur may call again if he is a friend of Mademoiselle
+Poynton's--say, in a fortnight."
+
+"Marquise," he said, "it is necessary that I see Mademoiselle at once. I
+am the bearer of good news."
+
+The Marquise looked at him steadily.
+
+"Of good news, Monsieur?"
+
+"Certainly!"
+
+"But how can that be?"
+
+"If Madame will give me the opportunity," he said, "I should only be too
+glad to explain--to Mademoiselle Poynton."
+
+"If, indeed, it should be good news," the Marquise said slowly, "it were
+better broken gradually to Mademoiselle. I will take her a message."
+
+"Permit me to see her, Marquise," he begged. "My errand is indeed
+important."
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"It is not," she said, "according to the _convenances_. Mademoiselle is
+under my protection. I have not the honor of knowing you, Monsieur."
+
+Duncombe raised his eyebrows.
+
+"But you remember calling at my house in Norfolk, and bringing Miss
+Poynton away," he said.
+
+She stared at him calmly.
+
+"The matter," she said, "has escaped my memory. I do not love your
+country, Monsieur, and my rare visits there do not linger in my mind."
+
+"Your husband," he reminded her, "asked me to visit you here."
+
+"My husband's friends," she replied, "are not mine."
+
+The calm insolence of her manner towards him took him aback. He had
+scarcely expected such a reception.
+
+"I can only apologize, Madame," he said with a bow, "for intruding. I
+will await your husband's return in the hall."
+
+He bowed low, and turned to leave the room. He had almost reached the
+door before she stopped him.
+
+"Wait!"
+
+He turned round. Her voice was different.
+
+"Come and sit down here," she said, pointing to a sofa by her side.
+
+He obeyed her, thoroughly amazed. She leaned back amongst the cushions
+and looked at him thoughtfully.
+
+"How is it that you--an Englishman--speak French so well?" she asked.
+
+"I lived in Paris for some years," he answered.
+
+"Indeed! And yet you returned to--Norfolk, is it?"
+
+He bowed.
+
+"It is true, Madame!" he admitted.
+
+"How droll!" she murmured. "Miss Poynton--she is an old friend of
+yours?"
+
+"I am very anxious to see her, Madame!"
+
+"Why?"
+
+He hesitated. After all, his was no secret mission.
+
+"I have reason to believe," he said, "that a mistake has been made in
+the identity of the body found in the Seine and supposed to be her
+brother's."
+
+She gave a little start. It seemed to him that from that moment she
+regarded him with more interest.
+
+"But that, Monsieur," she said, "is not possible."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+She did not answer him for a moment. Instead she rang a bell.
+
+A servant appeared almost immediately.
+
+"Request Monsieur le Marquis to step this way immediately he returns,"
+she ordered.
+
+The man bowed and withdrew. The Marquise turned again to Duncombe.
+
+"It is quite impossible!" she repeated. "Do you know who it was that
+identified--the young man?"
+
+Duncombe shook his head.
+
+"I know nothing," he said. "I saw the notice in the paper, and I have
+been to the Morgue with a friend."
+
+"Were you allowed to see it?"
+
+"No! For some reason or other we were not. But we managed to bribe one
+of the attendants, and we got the police description."
+
+"This," Madame said, "is interesting. Well?"
+
+"There was one point in particular in the description," Duncombe said,
+"and a very important one, which proved to us both that the dead man was
+not Guy Poynton."
+
+"It is no secret, I presume?" she said. "Tell me what it was."
+
+Duncombe hesitated. He saw no reason for concealing the facts.
+
+"The height of the body," he said, "was given as five feet nine. Guy
+Poynton was over six feet."
+
+The Marquise nodded her head slowly.
+
+"And now," she said, "shall I tell you who it is who identified the body
+at the Morgue--apart from the papers which were found in his pocket, and
+which certainly belonged to Mr. Poynton?"
+
+"I should be interested to know," he admitted.
+
+"It was Miss Poynton herself. It is that which has upset her so. She
+recognized him at once."
+
+"Are you sure of this, Madame?" Duncombe asked.
+
+"I myself," the Marquise answered, "accompanied her there. It was
+terrible."
+
+Duncombe looked very grave.
+
+"I am indeed sorry to hear this," he said. "There can be no possibility
+of any mistake, then?"
+
+"None whatever!" the Marquise declared.
+
+"You will permit me to see her?" Duncombe begged. "If I am not a very
+old friend--I am at least an intimate one."
+
+The Marquise shook her head.
+
+"She is not in a fit state to see any one," she declared. "The visit to
+the Morgue has upset her almost as much as the affair itself. You must
+have patience, Monsieur. In a fortnight or three weeks at the earliest
+she may be disposed to see friends. Certainly not at present."
+
+"I may send her a message?" Duncombe asked.
+
+The Marquise nodded.
+
+"Yes. You may write it, if you like."
+
+"And I may wait for an answer?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+Duncombe scribbled a few lines on the back of a visiting-card. The
+Marquise took it from him and rose.
+
+"I will return," she said. "You shall be entirely satisfied."
+
+She left him alone for nearly ten minutes. She had scarcely left the
+room when another visitor entered. The Vicomte de Bergillac, in a dark
+brown suit and an apple-green tie, bowed to Duncombe, and carefully
+selected the most comfortable chair in his vicinity.
+
+"So you took my advice, Monsieur," he remarked, helping himself to a
+cushion from another chair, and placing it behind his head.
+
+"I admit it," Duncombe answered. "On the whole I believe that it was
+very good advice."
+
+"Would you," the Vicomte murmured, "like another dose?"
+
+"I trust," Duncombe said, "that there is no necessity."
+
+The Vicomte reflected.
+
+"Why are you here?" he asked.
+
+"To see Miss Poynton."
+
+"And again why?"
+
+Duncombe smiled. The boy's manner was so devoid of impertinence that he
+found it impossible to resent his questions.
+
+"Well," he said, "I came hoping to bring Miss Poynton some good news. I
+had information which led me seriously to doubt whether the body which
+has been found in the Seine is really her brother's."
+
+The Vicomte sat up as though he had been shot.
+
+"My friend," he said slowly, "I take some interest in you, but, upon my
+word, I begin to believe that you will end your days in the Morgue
+yourself. As you value your life, don't tell any one else what you have
+told me. I trust that I am the first."
+
+"I have told the Marquise," Duncombe answered, "and she has gone to find
+out whether Miss Poynton will see me."
+
+The Vicomte's patent boot tapped the floor slowly.
+
+"You have told the Marquise," he repeated thoughtfully. "Stop! I must
+think!"
+
+There was a short silence. Then the Vicomte looked up.
+
+"Very well," he said. "Now listen! Have you any confidence in me?"
+
+"Undoubtedly," Duncombe answered. "The advice you gave me before was, I
+know, good. It was confirmed a few hours following, and, as you know, I
+followed it."
+
+"Then listen," the Vicomte said. "_L'affaire Poynton_ is in excellent
+hands. The young lady will come to no harm. You are here, I know,
+because you are her friend. You can help her if you will."
+
+"How?" Duncombe asked.
+
+"By leaving Paris to-day."
+
+"Your advice," Duncombe said grimly, "seems to lack variety."
+
+The Vicomte shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"The other affair," he said; "is still open. If I stepped to the
+telephone here you would be arrested within the hour."
+
+"Can't you leave the riddles out and talk so that an ordinary man can
+understand you for a few minutes?" Duncombe begged.
+
+"It is exactly what remains impossible," the Vicomte answered smoothly.
+"But you know the old saying, you have doubtless something similar in
+your own country, 'It is from our friends we suffer most.' Your
+presence here, your--forgive me--somewhat clumsy attempts to solve this
+_affaire Poynton_, are likely to be a cause of embarrassment to the
+young lady herself and to others. Apart from that, it will certainly
+cost you your life."
+
+"Without some shadow of an explanation," Duncombe said calmly, "I remain
+where I am in case I can be of assistance to Miss Poynton."
+
+The young man shrugged his shoulders, and sauntering to a mirror
+rearranged his tie. Madame la Marquise entered.
+
+"You, Henri!" she exclaimed.
+
+He bowed low with exaggerated grace, and kissed the tips of her fingers.
+
+"I!" he answered. "And--for this time with a perfectly legitimate reason
+for my coming. A commission from my uncle."
+
+"_L'affaire Poynton?_"
+
+"Exactly, dear cousin."
+
+"But why," she asked, "did they not show you into my room?"
+
+"I learnt that my friend Sir George Duncombe was here, and I desired to
+see him," he rejoined.
+
+She shrugged her dainty shoulders.
+
+"You will wait!" she directed. Then she turned to Duncombe, and handed
+him a sealed envelope.
+
+"If you please," she said, "will you read that--now."
+
+He tore it open, and read the few hasty lines. Then he looked up, and
+met the Marquise's expectant gaze.
+
+"Madame," he said slowly, "does this come from Miss Poynton of her own
+free will?"
+
+She laughed insolently.
+
+"Monsieur," she said, "my guests are subject to no coercion in this
+house."
+
+He bowed, and turned towards the door.
+
+"Your answer, Monsieur?" she called out.
+
+"There is no answer," he replied.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+THE INTERVIEWING OF PHYLLIS
+
+
+THE Marquise made a wry face at his departing figure, which changed
+swiftly into a smile as she turned to the young Vicomte.
+
+"Ah, these Englishmen!" she exclaimed. "These dull, good, obstinate,
+stupid pigs of Englishmen! If they would lose their tempers once--get
+angry, anything. Do they make love as coldly, I wonder?"
+
+"Dear cousin," he answered, "I do not know. But if you will permit me I
+will show you----"
+
+"Henri!"
+
+He sighed.
+
+"You are so adorable, Angele," he murmured.
+
+"And you," she answered, "are so indiscreet. It is not your day, and I
+am expecting Gustav at any moment, I have left word that he is to be
+shown up here. There, my hand for one moment, not so roughly, sir. And
+now tell me why you came."
+
+"On a diplomatic errand, my dear cousin. I must see Miss Poynton."
+
+She touched a bell.
+
+"I will send for her," she said. "I shall not let you see her alone. She
+is much too good-looking, and you are far too impressionable!"
+
+He looked at her reproachfully.
+
+"Angele," he said, "you speak so of a young English miss--to me, Henri
+de Bergillac--to me who have known--who knows----"
+
+She interrupted him laughing. The exaggerated devotion of his manner
+seemed to amuse her.
+
+"My dear Henri!" she said. "I do not believe that even a young English
+miss is safe from you. But attend! She comes."
+
+Phyllis entered the room and came towards them. She was dressed in
+black, and she was still pale, but her eyes and mouth were wholly
+without affinity to the class of young person whom Henri had expected to
+see. He rose and bowed, and Phyllis regarded him with frank interest.
+
+"Phyllis," the Marquise said, "this is the Vicomte de Bergillac, and he
+brings you messages from some one or other. Your affairs are quite too
+complicated for my little head. Sit down and let him talk to you."
+
+"If Monsieur le Vicomte has brought me messages from the right person,"
+Phyllis said with a smile, "he will be very welcome. Seriously,
+Monsieur, I seem to have fallen amongst friends here whose only
+unkindness is an apparent desire to turn my life into a maze. I hope
+that you are going to lead me out."
+
+"I can conceive, Mademoiselle," the Vicomte answered with his hand upon
+his heart, "no more delightful undertaking."
+
+"Then I am quite sure," she answered, laughing softly, "that we are both
+going to be very happy. Please go on!"
+
+"Mademoiselle speaks delightful French," he murmured, a little
+surprised.
+
+"And, Monsieur, I can see," she answered, "is an apt flatterer.
+Afterwards as much as you please. But now--well, I want to hear about
+Guy."
+
+"Mademoiselle has commanded," he said with a little gesture. "To proceed
+then. Monsieur Guy is well, and is my constant companion. He is with
+friends who wish him well, and this morning, Mademoiselle, the President
+himself has given written orders to the police to proceed no further in
+the unfortunate little affair of which Mademoiselle has knowledge."
+
+Phyllis had lost all her pallor. She smiled delightfully upon him.
+Madame la Marquise rose with a little impatient movement, and walked to
+the further end of the room.
+
+"How nice of you to come and tell me this," she exclaimed, "and what a
+relief! I am sure I think he is very fortunate to have made such good
+friends."
+
+"Mademoiselle," he declared with emphasis, "one at least of those
+friends is more than repaid."
+
+She laughed back into his eyes, frankly amused by his gallantry.
+
+"And now," she said, "we come to the beginning of the riddles. Why is it
+necessary for him to be supposed drowned, if he is no longer in danger
+from the police?"
+
+"Ah, Mademoiselle," he said, "I must speak to you now of strange things.
+But, first, I must implore you to promise me this, and remember it
+always. Every word that I am going to say to you now must remain for the
+present a profound secret. That is agreed?"
+
+"Certainly!" she answered.
+
+"Your brother," he continued, "in his travels on the Continent stumbled
+by chance upon a State secret of international importance. He had
+himself no idea of it, but a chance word which he let fall, on the first
+evening I met him, gave the clue to myself and some friends. In his
+enforced retirement we--that is, my uncle and others--learned from him
+the whole story of his adventure. It has placed the Government of this
+country under great obligations. This, together with your service to us,
+has secured his pardon."
+
+"This is wonderful!" she murmured.
+
+"It is not all," he continued. "The spies of the country where he learnt
+this secret have followed him to Paris. They are to-day searching for
+him everywhere. If they knew that he realized the importance of what he
+had seen, and had communicated it to the proper persons here, our
+advantage in knowing it would be largely lost. So far they have not
+traced him. Now, I think that you have the key to what must have puzzled
+you so much."
+
+"This is wonderful!" she murmured. "Let me think for a moment."
+
+"You are naturally anxious," the Vicomte continued, "to see your
+brother. Before very long, Mademoiselle, I trust that it may be my
+pleasure to bring you together. But when I tell you that you are watched
+continually in the hope that, through you, your brother's hiding-place
+may be found, you will understand the wisdom which for the present keeps
+you apart."
+
+"I suppose so," she answered dubiously. "But now that his death is
+reported?"
+
+"Exactly, Mademoiselle. The affair has been arranged so that the search
+for your brother will be abandoned and the espionage on you removed. If
+the story of his doings in Paris, and the tragic sequel to them, be
+believed by those whom we wish to believe it, then they will also assume
+that his secret has died with him, and that their schemes move on
+towards success. You understand?"
+
+"Yes, Monsieur le Vicomte, I understand," she answered slowly. "What,
+then, do you wish me to do?"
+
+"Mademoiselle," the Vicomte answered, fixing his dark eyes impressively
+upon her, "for you there remains the hardest of all tasks--inaction.
+Believe me that when I came here, it was not my intention to put the
+truth of the matter so plainly before you. Neither was it the will of
+those whose orders I carry out. But I, Mademoiselle, before all things,
+I believe in inspiration. I find in Mademoiselle"--he bowed once
+more--"qualities which alter the situation. I--a judge of faces as I
+venture to believe myself--have looked into yours, and many things have
+happened."
+
+She laughed delightfully. Her eyes were lit with humor.
+
+"Ah, Monsieur!" she protested.
+
+"With you, Mademoiselle," he continued, "reposes now a secret of great
+importance to your country and mine. I ask for no pledge of discretion,
+but I rely upon it. And, especially, Mademoiselle, may I warn you
+against your friends?"
+
+"I understand," she answered. "You wish me to share this confidence with
+no one."
+
+"With no one," the Vicomte repeated impressively. "Not even,
+Mademoiselle, if I may venture to mention a name, with your very
+persistent admirer, Sir George Duncombe, whom I saw here a few moments
+since."
+
+She sighed, and the Vicomte's face became one of pale anxiety.
+
+"I have not been permitted to see him," she answered. "He was here a few
+minutes ago."
+
+"It is wiser so, Mademoiselle," the Vicomte said. "I wonder," he added,
+"whether Mademoiselle will pardon the impertinence of a purely personal
+question?"
+
+"I will try," she answered demurely.
+
+"This Englishman--Sir George Duncombe--are you perhaps--how you say,
+betrothed to him?"
+
+A certain bluntness in the question, and the real or affected anxiety of
+the young man's tone brought the color streaming into her cheeks.
+
+"Monsieur," she exclaimed, "you really must not----"
+
+"Ah, but, Mademoiselle," he interrupted, "so much depends upon your
+answer."
+
+"Absurd!" she murmured. "I really do not see why I should answer such a
+question at all."
+
+"You will be merciful?" he begged, lowering his tone.
+
+"I will," she answered. "I hope you will appreciate my confidence. I am
+not engaged to Sir George Duncombe."
+
+His sigh of relief was marvellous. She found it harder than ever to keep
+the laughter from her eyes.
+
+"Mademoiselle," he declared, "it makes me happy to have you say this."
+
+"Really, Vicomte!" she protested.
+
+"The situation, too," he said, "becomes less complex. We can very easily
+deal with him now. He shall annoy you no more!"
+
+"But he doesn't annoy me," she answered calmly. "On the contrary I
+should like to see him very much, if I were permitted."
+
+"Mademoiselle will understand well the indiscretion," he said earnestly.
+
+She sighed a little wearily.
+
+"I am afraid," she said, "that I find it a little hard to understand
+anything clearly, but you see that I trust you. I will not see him."
+
+"Mademoiselle is very wise," he answered. "Indeed, it is better not.
+There remains now a question which I have come to ask."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Mademoiselle did not by chance whilst waiting for her brother think of
+examining his luggage?"
+
+She nodded.
+
+"I did look through it," she admitted.
+
+"There was a paper there, which is missing now--a sheet of paper with
+writing on it--in German. It is not possible that Mademoiselle took
+possession of it?" he demanded eagerly.
+
+She nodded.
+
+"That is just what I did do," she said. "I could read a few words, and I
+could not understand how it came to be in his bag. It seemed to be part
+of an official agreement between two countries."
+
+"You have it now?" he cried eagerly. "You have it in your possession?"
+
+She shook her head
+
+"I gave it to some one to take care of," she said, "when I was over in
+England. I got frightened when we were nearly caught at Runton, and I
+did not want it to be found upon me."
+
+"To whom?" he cried.
+
+"To Sir George Duncombe!"
+
+The Vicomte was silent for a moment.
+
+"You believe," he asked, "that Sir George Duncombe would guard it
+carefully?"
+
+"I am sure he would," she answered.
+
+"Mademoiselle," he said, "this is very important. Your brother's luggage
+has been searched, and we came to the conclusion that the paper had been
+taken by those who had followed him here, and may possibly have been
+aware that he had it. If we can get possession of it, it will be very
+much to the advantage of your country and mine. I scarcely dare say
+more. Will you give me a letter to Sir George instructing him to deliver
+it up to me?"
+
+She leaned a little forward and looked steadily into his eyes.
+
+"Monsieur le Vicomte," she said, "I do not know you very well, and it is
+very hard indeed for me to tell who are my friends here. Can I trust
+you?"
+
+"Mademoiselle," he answered, "I will not say 'like your brother,' for it
+is a relationship I have no wish to bear. Let me say like the person to
+whom your welfare is dearer even than his own."
+
+Phyllis felt her lips curve into a smile. Despite his youth and manner,
+which seemed to her a little affected, there was nevertheless undoubted
+earnestness in the admiration which he took no pains to conceal.
+
+"Very well, Monsieur le Vicomte," she said, "I will give you the
+letter."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE BLUNDERING OF ANDREW
+
+
+They came face to face in the hall of the Grand Hotel. Duncombe had just
+returned from his call upon the Marquise. Andrew was leaning upon the
+arm of a dark, smooth-shaven man, and had apparently just descended from
+the lift. At the sound of Duncombe's little exclamation they both
+stopped short. Andrew turned his heavily spectacled eyes in Duncombe's
+direction, but it was obvious that he saw nothing.
+
+"You here, Andrew!"
+
+"Yes! Why not?"
+
+The tone was curt, almost discourteous. Duncombe understood at once.
+
+"Let us sit down somewhere, and talk for a few minutes," he said. "I did
+not expect you. You should have let me know that you were coming."
+
+Andrew laughed a little bitterly.
+
+"I scarcely see why," he said. "To tell you the truth, I see no
+advantage to either of us in any intercourse."
+
+Duncombe took him by the arm and led him towards the smoking-room.
+
+"Andrew," he said, "perhaps I have behaved badly--at least from your
+point of view, but remember that I warned you. Let us sit down here. Who
+is your friend?"
+
+"Never mind," Andrew answered. "You can say what you have to before him.
+He is in my confidence."
+
+Duncombe glanced around. The man had taken the chair next to them, and
+was evidently prepared to listen to all that was said. His clothes and
+bearing, and quiet, unobtrusive manners, all seemed to suggest
+truthfully enough his possible identity--an English detective from an
+advertised office. Duncombe smiled as he realized the almost pitiful
+inadequacy of such methods.
+
+"Come, Andrew," he said, turning to his friend, "you have a small
+grievance against me, and you think you have a great one."
+
+"A small grievance!" Andrew murmured softly. "Thank you, Duncombe."
+
+"Go on, then. State it!" Duncombe declared. "Let me hear what is in your
+mind."
+
+Andrew raised his brows slowly. Twice he seemed to speak, but at the
+last moment remained silent. He was obviously struggling to control
+himself.
+
+"There is this in my mind against you, Duncombe," he said finally. "I
+sent for you as a friend. You accepted a charge from me--as my friend.
+And you betrayed me."
+
+Duncombe shook his head.
+
+"Listen, Andrew," he said. "I want to remind you again of what I said
+just now. I warned you! No, don't interrupt. It may have sounded like
+nonsense to you. I meant every word I said. I honestly tried to make you
+understand. I came here; I risked many things. I failed! I returned to
+England. Up till then you had nothing to complain of. Then, Heaven knows
+why, but the very girl whom I had gone to Paris to seek came to Runton
+in the guise at least of an adventuress."
+
+Andrew lifted his head quickly.
+
+"You admit it at last, then?" he cried.
+
+"Yes, I admit it now," Duncombe agreed.
+
+"You lied to me there--to me who had no eyes, who trusted you. What was
+that but betrayal, rank, inexcusable betrayal!"
+
+"Listen, Andrew," Duncombe said. "She told me that she was not Phyllis
+Poynton. It was enough for me. I disregarded my convictions. Her word
+was my law. She said that she was not Phyllis Poynton, and to me she
+never was Phyllis Poynton. She was afraid of you, and I helped her to
+avoid you. I admit it! It is the extent of my failing in our friendship,
+and you were warned."
+
+"And now?"
+
+"I am here now," Duncombe said a little sadly, "because I love her, and
+because I cannot keep away. But she will not see me, and I am no nearer
+solving the mystery than ever. On the contrary, I know that I am in
+danger here. It is possible that I may be driven to leave Paris
+to-night."
+
+"You know where she is now?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+Andrew leaned suddenly over, and his grip was on Duncombe's shoulder
+like a vise.
+
+"Then, by God, you shall tell me!" he said fiercely. "Don't you know,
+man, that Guy has been found in the Seine, robbed and drugged, and
+murdered without a doubt? Do you want me to wait whilst something of the
+same sort happens to her? You shall tell me where she is, Duncombe. I
+say that you shall tell me!"
+
+Duncombe hesitated.
+
+"You can do no more than I have done," he said.
+
+"Then at least I will do as much," Andrew answered. "I am her oldest
+friend, and I have claims upon her which you never could have. Now that
+she is in this terrible trouble my place is by her side. I----"
+
+"One moment, Andrew," Duncombe interrupted. "Are you sure that it was
+Guy Poynton who was found in the Seine? The height was given as five
+feet nine, and Guy Poynton was over six feet."
+
+"You should read the papers," Andrew answered shortly. "He was
+identified by his sister."
+
+"The papers said so," Duncombe answered hesitatingly; "but----"
+
+"Look here," Andrew interrupted, "I have had enough of this playing with
+facts. You have grown too complex about this business altogether,
+Duncombe. Give me Phyllis Poynton's address."
+
+"You shall have it," Duncombe answered, taking a leaf from his
+pocketbook and writing. "I don't think that it will be any good to you.
+I think that it is more likely to lead you into trouble. Miss Poynton is
+with the Marquis and Marquise de St. Ethol. They are of the first
+nobility in France. Their position as people of honor and circumstance
+appears undoubted. But nevertheless, if you are allowed to see her I
+shall be surprised."
+
+The hall-porter approached them, hat in hand.
+
+"A lady to see Monsieur," he announced to Andrew.
+
+Andrew rose and took his companion's arm. He scarcely glanced again
+towards Duncombe, who followed them out of the room. And there in the
+hall awaiting them was the young lady from Vienna, quietly dressed in
+black, but unmistakable with her pretty hair and perfumes. Duncombe
+watched them shake hands and move away before he could recover
+sufficiently from his first fit of surprise to intervene. Then a
+realization of what had happened rushed in upon him. They, too, then,
+had been to the Cafe Montmartre, with their obvious Anglicisms, their
+clumsy inquiries--to make of themselves without doubt the jest of that
+little nest of intriguers, and afterwards their tool. Duncombe thought
+of the fruits of his own inquiries there, and shivered. He hurried after
+the little party, who were apparently on their way to the cafe.
+
+"Andrew," he said, grasping him by the arm, "I must speak with you
+alone--at once."
+
+"I see no object in any further discussion between us," Andrew said
+calmly.
+
+"Don't be a fool!" Duncombe answered. "That woman you are with is a spy.
+If you have anything to do with her you are injuring Phyllis Poynton.
+She is not here to give you information. She is at work for her own
+ends."
+
+"You are becoming more communicative, my friend," Andrew said, with
+something which was almost a sneer. "You did not talk so freely a few
+minutes back. It seems as though we were on the eve of a discovery."
+
+"You are on the brink of making an idiot of yourself," Duncombe answered
+quickly. "You were mad to bring that blundering English detective over
+here. What the French police cannot or do not choose to discover, do you
+suppose that they would allow an Englishman to find out--a stranger to
+Paris, and with an accent like that? If I cannot keep you from folly by
+any other means I must break my word to others. Come back into the
+smoking-room with me, and I will tell you why you are mad to have
+anything to do with that woman."
+
+"Thank you," Andrew answered, "I think not. I have confidence in Mr.
+Lloyd, my friend here, and I have none in you."
+
+"Andrew!"
+
+"I speak as I feel!"
+
+"Leave me out of the question. It is Phyllis Poynton you will harm. I
+see that your friend is listening, and Mademoiselle is impatient. Make
+your excuses for ten minutes, Andrew. You will never regret it."
+
+The detective, who had evidently overheard everything, stepped back to
+them.
+
+"You will excuse my interfering, sir," he said, "but if this case is to
+remain in my hands at all it is necessary for me to hear all that Sir
+George Duncombe has to say. The young lady will wait for a moment. This
+case is difficult enough as it is, what with the jealousy of the French
+police, who naturally don't want us to find out what they can't. If Sir
+George Duncombe has any information to give now," the man added with
+emphasis, "which he withheld a few minutes ago, I think that I ought to
+hear it from his own lips."
+
+"I agree entirely with what Mr. Lloyd has said," Andrew declared.
+
+Duncombe shrugged his shoulders. He looked around him cautiously, but
+they were in a corner of the entresol, and no one was within hearing
+distance.
+
+"Very well," he said. "To save you from danger, and Miss Poynton from
+further trouble, I am going to break a confidence which has been reposed
+in me, and to give you the benefit of my own surmises. In the first
+place, Mr. Lloyd is mistaken in supposing that the French police have
+been in the least puzzled by this double disappearance. On the contrary,
+they are perfectly well aware of all the facts of the case, and could
+have produced Miss Poynton or her brother at any moment. They are
+working not for us, but against us!"
+
+"Indeed!" Mr. Lloyd said in a tone of disbelief. "And their object?"
+
+"Here is as much of the truth as I dare tell you," Duncombe said. "Guy
+Poynton whilst on the Continent became the chance possessor of an
+important State secret. He was followed to France by spies from that
+country--we will call it Germany--and the young lady who awaits you so
+impatiently is, if not one of them, at least one of their friends. At
+the Cafe Montmartre he gave his secret away to people who are in some
+measure allied with the secret service police of France. He was
+kidnapped by them, and induced to remain hidden by a trick. Meanwhile
+diplomacy makes use of his information, and foreign spies look for him
+in vain. His sister, when she came to search for him, was simply an
+inconvenience which these people had not contemplated. She was worked
+upon by fears concerning her brother's safety to go into hiding. Both
+have been well cared for, and the report of Guy's death is, I firmly
+believe, nothing but an attempt to lull the anxieties of the spies who
+are searching for him. This young woman here may be able to tell you
+into whose hands he has fallen, but you may take my word for it that
+she is in greater need of information than you are, and that she is an
+exceedingly dangerous person for you to discuss the Poyntons with. There
+are the crude facts. I have only known them a few hours myself, and
+there is a good deal which I cannot explain. But this I honestly and
+firmly believe. Neither you nor I nor Mr. Lloyd here can do the
+slightest good by interfering in this matter. For myself, I am leaving
+for England to-night."
+
+Duncombe, like most honest men, expected to be believed. If he had
+entertained the slightest doubt about it he would not have dared to open
+his mouth. The silence that followed he could understand. No doubt they
+were as amazed as he had been. But it was a different thing when he saw
+the expression on Andrew's face as he turned to his companion.
+
+"What do you think of this, Lloyd?" he asked.
+
+"I am afraid, sir," the man answered, "that some of the clever ones have
+been imposing upon Sir George. It generally turns out so when amateurs
+tackle a job like this."
+
+Duncombe looked at him in astonishment.
+
+"Do you mean to say that you don't believe me?" he exclaimed.
+
+"I wouldn't put it like that, sir," the man answered with a deprecating
+smile. "I think you have been misled by those who did not wish you to
+discover the truth."
+
+Duncombe turned sharply on his heel.
+
+"And you, Andrew?"
+
+"I wish to do you justice," Andrew answered coldly, "and I am willing to
+believe that you have faith yourself in the extraordinary story you
+have just told us. But frankly I think that you have been too
+credulous."
+
+Duncombe lost his temper. He turned on his heel, and walked back into
+the hotel.
+
+"You can go to the devil your own way!" he declared.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+SPENCER GETS HIS CHANCE
+
+
+Spencer tried to rise from the sofa, but the effort was too much for
+him. Pale and thin, with black lines under his eyes, and bloodless lips,
+he seemed scarcely more than the wreck of his former self.
+
+His visitor laid his stick and hat upon the table. Then he bowed once
+more to Spencer, and stood looking at him, leaning slightly against the
+table.
+
+"I am permitted," he asked gently, "to introduce myself?"
+
+"Quite unnecessary!" Spencer answered.
+
+The Baron shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"You know me?" he asked.
+
+The shadow of a smile flitted across Spencer's face.
+
+"By many names, Monsieur Louis," he answered.
+
+His visitor smiled. Debonair in dress and deportment, there seemed
+nothing to inspire alarm in the air of gentle concern with which he
+regarded the man whom he had come to visit. Yet Spencer cursed the
+languor which had kept him from recovering the revolver which an hour or
+more before had slipped from underneath his cushion.
+
+"It saves trouble," Monsieur Louis said. "I come to you. Monsieur
+Spencer, as a friend."
+
+"You alarm me," Spencer murmured.
+
+Monsieur Louis shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"You are pleased to be witty," he answered. "But indeed I am no such
+terrible person. It is permitted that I smoke?"
+
+"Certainly," Spencer answered. "If you care for wine or liqueurs pray
+ring for my servant. I can assure you that it is not by my own will that
+you find me so indifferent a host."
+
+"I thank you," Monsieur Louis answered. "I think that we will not ring
+the bell. It would be a pity to disturb an interview to which I have
+looked forward with so much pleasure."
+
+"_L'affaire Poynton?_" Spencer suggested.
+
+"Precisely!"
+
+"You have perhaps come to complete the little affair in which so far you
+have succeeded so admirably?"
+
+"Pray do not suggest such a thing," Monsieur Louis answered
+deprecatingly. "For one thing I should not personally run the risk. And
+for another have I not already assured you that I come as a friend?"
+
+"It was then," Spencer answered, "that I began to be frightened."
+
+Monsieur Louis smiled. He drew a gold cigarette case from his pocket,
+and calmly lit a cigarette.
+
+"Since you permit, _mon ami_," he said. "Good! I speak better when I
+smoke. You are not so ill, I see, but that you retain that charming
+sense of humor your readers have learnt so well how to appreciate."
+
+"The dose was scarcely strong enough," Spencer answered. "Or perhaps by
+good fortune I stumbled upon the proper antidote."
+
+"I see that you like plain speaking," Monsieur Louis continued with a
+gentle smile. "Permit me to assure you then that the dose was quite as
+strong as we wished. Extremes are sometimes necessary, but we avoid
+them whenever possible."
+
+"I wonder where it happened," Spencer said reflectively. "I have been on
+my guard all the time. I have watched my wine and coffee at the cafes,
+and I have eaten only in the restaurants that I know."
+
+Monsieur Louis did not seem to think the matter important.
+
+"It was bound to happen," he said. "If you had been like your
+friends--the English baronet and the last two, who are even more
+amusing--perhaps it would not have been necessary. But you
+understand--you were beginning to discover things."
+
+"Yes," Spencer admitted. "I was beginning to get interested."
+
+"Exactly! We were forced to act. I can assure you, Monsieur Spencer,
+that it was with reluctance. The others of whom I have spoken--Sir
+George Duncombe, Monsieur Pelham, and his toy detective--forgive me that
+I smile--walk all the time in the palm of our hand. But they remain
+unharmed. If by any chance they should blunder into the knowledge of
+things which might cause us annoyance, why, then--there would be more
+invalids in Paris. Indeed, Monsieur, we do not seek to abuse our power.
+My errand to you to-day is one of mercy."
+
+"You make me ashamed," Spencer said, with a sarcasm which he took no
+pains to conceal, "of my unworthy suspicions. To proceed."
+
+"You have sent for Sir George Duncombe to come and see you!"
+
+Spencer was silent for a moment. His own servant unfaithful? It was not
+possible.
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Even you," the Baron continued, "have not yet solved the mystery of
+_l'affaire Poynton_. But you know more than Sir George. Let me recommend
+that you do not share your knowledge with him."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"If you do Sir George will at once share your indisposition."
+
+"I begin to understand," Spencer said.
+
+"How otherwise? Send Sir George home. You see the delicacy of our
+position. It is not so much that we fear Sir George Duncombe's
+interference, but he again is followed and watched over by our enemies,
+who would easily possess themselves of any information which he might
+gain."
+
+Spencer nodded.
+
+"It is good reasoning," he admitted.
+
+"Listen," Monsieur Louis continued. "I speak now on behalf of my
+friends. You know whom I mean. You have solved the mystery of our
+existence. We are omnipotent. The police and the secret service police
+and the Government itself are with us. We have license throughout the
+city. We may do what others may not. For us there is no crime. I kill
+you now perhaps. The police arrive. I am before the Commissioner. I give
+him the sign--it is _l'affaire Poynton_. I go free! It is a certain
+thing."
+
+"Granted!" Spencer said. "Proceed with your killing, or your argument."
+
+"With the latter, if you please," Monsieur Louis answered. "I do not
+choose to kill. _L'affaire Poynton_, then. Harm is not meant to either
+of these young people. That I assure you upon my honor. In three weeks,
+or say a month, we have finished. They may return to their homes if they
+will. We have no further interest in them. For those three weeks you
+must remain as you are--you, and if you have influence over him, Sir
+George Duncombe. The other two fools we have no care for. If they
+blundered into knowledge--well, they must pay. They are not our concern,
+yours and mine. For you, I bring you an offer, Monsieur Spencer."
+
+"_Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes!_" Spencer murmured.
+
+Monsieur Louis smiled.
+
+"My gift," he answered, "will not terrify you. You are a journalist. I
+offer to make the fortune of your paper. You shall be the first to
+announce an affair of the greatest international importance since the
+war between Russia and Japan was declared. No, I will go further than
+that. It is the greatest event since Waterloo."
+
+"_L'affaire Poynton_ strikes so deep?" Spencer remarked.
+
+"So deep," the Baron answered. "It is the fools who grope their way into
+great places. So did the boy Poynton. You, my friend, shall be the one
+brilliant exception. You shall make yourself the king of journalists,
+and you shall be quoted down the century as having achieved the greatest
+journalistic feat of modern days."
+
+Spencer turned his drawn, haggard face towards his visitor. A slight
+flush of color stained his cheek.
+
+"You fascinate me," he said slowly. "I admit it. You have found the weak
+spot in my armor. Proceed! For whom do you speak?"
+
+Monsieur Louis abandoned his somewhat lounging attitude. He stood by
+Spencer's side, and, leaning down, whispered in his ear. Spencer's eyes
+grew bright.
+
+"Monsieur Louis," he said, "you play at a great game."
+
+The Baron shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"Me!" he answered. "I am but a pawn. I do what I am told."
+
+"To return for a moment to _l'affaire Poynton_," Spencer said. "I am in
+the humor to trust you. Have I then your assurance that the boy and girl
+do not suffer?"
+
+"Upon my own honor and the honor of the company to whom I belong," he
+answered with some show of dignity. "It is a pledge which I have never
+yet broken."
+
+"I am a bribed man," Spencer answered.
+
+Monsieur Louis threw away his second cigarette. He cast a look almost of
+admiration upon the man who still lay stretched upon the couch.
+
+"You are the only Englishman I ever met, Monsieur Spencer," he said,
+"who was not pig-headed. You have the tenacity of your countrymen, but
+you have the genius to pick out the right thread from the tangle, to
+know truth when you meet it, even in unlikely places. I doff my hat to
+you, Monsieur Spencer. If you permit I will send my own physician to
+you. You will be yourself in a week."
+
+"You know the antidote?" Spencer remarked grimly.
+
+"Naturally! Accidents will happen. You wish that I should send him?"
+
+"Without doubt," Spencer answered. "I am weary of this couch."
+
+"You shall leave it in a week," Monsieur promised, as he left the room.
+
+Spencer closed his eyes. Already he felt coming on the daily headache,
+which, with the terrible weakness, was a part of his symptoms. But there
+was no rest for him yet. Monsieur Louis had scarcely been gone five
+minutes when Duncombe arrived.
+
+Duncombe had had no word of his friend's illness. He stood over his
+couch in shocked surprise.
+
+"My dear fellow," he exclaimed. "I had no idea that you were ill. This
+is why I have not heard from you, then."
+
+Spencer smiled as he held out his hand, and Duncombe, who seemed to
+catch some meaning in the upraised eyebrows of his friend, was shocked.
+
+"You mean?" he exclaimed.
+
+Spencer nodded.
+
+"_L'affaire Poynton_" he said gently. "A very subtle dose of poison
+indeed, my friend. I shall not die, but I have had my little lesson.
+Here the individual has little chance. We fight against forces that are
+too many for us. I told you so at the start."
+
+"Yet I," Duncombe answered, "have not suffered."
+
+"My friend," Spencer answered, "it is because I am the more dangerous."
+
+"You have discovered something?" Duncombe exclaimed.
+
+"I came near discovering a great deal," Spencer answered. "Perhaps it
+would have been better for my system if I had discovered a little less.
+As it is I have finished with _l'affaire Poynton_ for the present. You
+see how very nearly _l'affaire Poynton_ finished me."
+
+"It is not like you," Duncombe said thoughtfully, "to give anything up."
+
+"We come face to face sometimes with unique experiences, which destroy
+precedent," Spencer answered. "This is one of them."
+
+"And what," Duncombe asked, "do you advise me to do?"
+
+"Always the same advice," Spencer answered. "Leave Paris to-day. Go
+straight back to Norfolk, read the newspapers, and await events."
+
+"Well, I think that I shall do so," Duncombe answered slowly. "I have
+found out where Miss Poynton is, but she will not see me. I have made an
+enemy of my dearest friend, and I have, at any rate, interrupted your
+career and endangered your life. Yes, I will go back home."
+
+"You may yet save your friend some--inconvenience," Spencer suggested.
+"Try to persuade him to go back with you."
+
+"He will not listen to me," Duncombe answered. "He has brought an
+English detective with him, and he is as obstinate as a mule. For myself
+I leave at nine o'clock."
+
+"You are well advised, exceedingly well advised," Spencer said. "Mind I
+do not take the responsibility of sending you away without serious
+reasons. I honestly believe that Miss Poynton is safe, whatever may have
+happened to her brother, and I believe that you will serve her best by
+your temporary absence."
+
+Duncombe stood for a moment wrapped in thought. The last few months had
+aged him strangely. The strenuous days and nights of anxious thought had
+left their mark in deep lines upon his face. He looked out of the
+window of Spencer's room, and his eyes saw little of the busy street
+below. He was alone once more with this strange, terrified girl upon the
+hillside, with the wind in their faces, and making wild havoc in her
+hair. He was with her in different moods in the little room behind his
+library, when the natural joy of her young life had for the moment
+reasserted itself. He was with her at their parting. He saw half the
+fearful regret with which she had left his care and accepted the
+intervention of the Marquise. Stirring times these had been for a man of
+his quiet temperament, whom matters of sentiment and romance had passed
+lightly by, and whose passions had never before been touched by the
+finger of fire. And now he was going back to an empty life--a life at
+least empty of joy, save the hope of seeing her again. For good or for
+evil, the great thing had found its way into his life. His days of calm
+animal enjoyment were over. Sorrow or joy was to be his. He had passed
+into the shadows of the complex life.
+
+He remembered where he was at last, and turned to Spencer.
+
+"About yourself, Spencer," he said. "Have you seen a doctor?"
+
+"Yes. I am not seriously ill," his friend answered. "The worst is over
+now. And, Duncombe, it's hard for you to go, I know--but look here, I
+believe that you will be back in a month, and taking Miss Poynton to
+lunch _chez_ Ritz. I never felt so sure of it as I do to-day."
+
+Duncombe remembered the answer to his note, and found it hard to share
+his friend's cheerfulness.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+A POLITICAL INTERLUDE
+
+
+Duncombe laid down his cue and strolled towards the sideboard, where his
+guest was already mixing himself a whisky and soda.
+
+"By the by, Runton," he said, "have you seen anything of our friend Von
+Rothe since that little affair at your place?"
+
+Lord Runton shook his head.
+
+"Not once," he answered. "He behaved very decently about it on the
+whole; treated it quite lightly--but he wouldn't let me go near the
+police. It was a long way the most unpleasant thing that ever happened
+in my house."
+
+"Never any further light upon it, I suppose?" Duncombe asked.
+
+Lord Runton shook his head.
+
+"None. Of course we could have traced them both without a doubt if we
+had put it in the hands of the police, but Von Rothe wouldn't hear of
+it. He tried to treat it lightly, but I know that he was very much
+worried."
+
+"Do you yourself believe," Duncombe asked, "that it was a political
+affair or an ordinary robbery?"
+
+"I think that it was the former," Lord Runton answered. "Those people
+were not common adventurers. By the by, George, have you got over your
+little weakness yet?" he added with a smile.
+
+Duncombe shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"Nearly made a fool of myself, didn't I?" he remarked, with a levity
+which did not sound altogether natural.
+
+"She was an uncommonly fascinating young woman," Lord Runton said, "but
+she didn't seem to me very old at the game. She was clever enough to
+fool Von Rothe, though. He admits that he told her that he was expecting
+a special messenger from Berlin."
+
+Duncombe seemed to have had enough of the subject. He got up and filled
+his pipe.
+
+"Is Jack coming down this week?" he asked.
+
+"No! He wired this morning that he can't get away. Sefton isn't coming,
+either. Between ourselves, George, something seems to be going on at the
+Foreign Office which I don't understand."
+
+"What do you mean?" Duncombe asked. "There has been no hint at any sort
+of trouble in the papers."
+
+"That's just what I don't understand," Lord Runton continued. "It is
+certain that there is an extraordinary amount of activity at Portsmouth
+and Woolwich, but even the little halfpenny sensational papers make no
+more than a passing allusion to it. Then look at the movements of our
+fleet. The whole of the Mediterranean Fleet is at Gibraltar, and the
+Channel Squadron is moving up the North Sea as though to join the Home
+Division. All these movements are quite unusual."
+
+"What do you make of them then?" Duncombe asked.
+
+"I scarcely know," Lord Runton answered. "But I can tell you this. There
+have been three Cabinet Councils this week, and there is a curious air
+of apprehension in official circles in town, as though something were
+about to happen. The service clubs are almost deserted, and I know for a
+fact that all leave in the navy has been suspended. What I don't
+understand is the silence everywhere. It looks to me as though there
+were really going to be trouble. The Baltic Fleet sailed this morning,
+you know."
+
+Duncombe nodded.
+
+"But," he said, "even if they were ill disposed to us, as no doubt
+Russia is just now, what could they do? One squadron of our fleet could
+send them to the bottom."
+
+"No doubt," Lord Runton answered. "But supposing they found an ally?"
+
+"France will never go to war with us for Russia's benefit," Duncombe
+declared.
+
+"Granted," Lord Runton answered, "but have you watched Germany's
+attitude lately?"
+
+"I can't say that I have," Duncombe admitted, "but I should never look
+upon Germany as a war-seeking nation."
+
+"No, I dare say not," Lord Runton answered. "Nor would a great many
+other people. Every one is willing to admit that she would like our
+Colonies, but no one will believe that she has the courage to strike a
+blow for them. I will tell you what I believe, Duncombe. I believe that
+no Great Power has ever before been in so dangerous a position as we are
+in to-day."
+
+Duncombe sat up in his chair. The weariness passed from his face, and he
+was distinctly interested. Lord Runton, without being an ardent
+politician, was a man of common-sense, and was closely connected with
+more than one member of the Cabinet.
+
+"Are you serious, Runton?" he asked.
+
+"Absolutely! Remember, I was in Berlin for two years, and I had many
+opportunities of gaining an insight into affairs there. What I can see
+coming now I have expected for years. There are two great factors which
+make for war. One is the character of the Emperor himself, and the other
+the inevitable rot, which must creep like a disease into a great army
+kept always upon a war footing, through a decade or more of inactivity.
+The Emperor is shrewd enough to see this. Nothing can possibly exist at
+its best which is not used for the purpose to which it owes its
+existence. That is why we have this flood of literature just now telling
+us of the gross abuses and general rottenness of the German army.
+Another five years of idleness, and Germany's position as the first
+military nation will have passed away. Like every other great power, it
+is rusting for want of use. The Emperor knows this."
+
+Duncombe for many reasons was fascinated by his friend's quiet words.
+Apart from their obvious plausibility, they brought with them many
+startling suggestions. Had chance, he wondered, really made Phyllis
+Poynton and her brother pawns in the great game? He felt himself stirred
+to a rare emotion by the flood of possibilities which swept in suddenly
+upon him. Lord Runton noted with surprise the signs of growing
+excitement in his listener.
+
+"Go on, Runton. Anything else?"
+
+Lord Runton helped himself to a cigarette, and leaned across to light
+it.
+
+"Of course," he continued, "I know that there are a great many people
+who firmly believe that for commercial reasons Germany would never seek
+a quarrel with us. I will agree with them so far as to say that I do not
+believe that a war with England would be popular amongst the bourgeois
+of Germany. On the other hand, they would be quite powerless to prevent
+it. The Emperor and his ministers have the affair in their own hands. A
+slight break in our diplomatic relations, some trifle seized hold of by
+the Press and magnified at once into an insult, and the war torch is
+kindled. To-day war does not come about by the slowly growing desire of
+nations. The threads of fate are in the hands of a few diplomatists at
+Berlin and London--a turn of the wrist, and there is tension which a
+breath can turn either way. You ask me why the Emperor should choose
+England for attack. There are many reasons: first, because England alone
+could repay him for the struggle; secondly, because he is intensely and
+miserably jealous of our own King, who has avoided all his own
+hot-headed errors, and has yet played a great and individual part in the
+world's affairs; thirdly, because England is most easily attacked. I
+could give you other reasons if you wanted them."
+
+"Quite enough," Duncombe answered. "What do you suppose would be the
+_casus belli_?"
+
+"The progress of the Russian fleet through English waters," Lord Runton
+answered promptly. "Russia's interest in such a misunderstanding would
+be, of course, immense. She has only to fire on an English ship, by
+mistake of course, and the whole fat would be in the fire. England
+probably would insist upon the squadron being detained, Germany would
+protest against any such action. We might very well be at war with
+Russia and Germany within ten days. Russia would immediately either make
+terms with Japan, or abandon any active operations in Manchuria and move
+upon India. Germany would come for us."
+
+"Is this all purely imagination?" Duncombe asked, "or have you anything
+to go on?"
+
+"So far as I am concerned," Lord Runton said slowly, "I, of course, know
+nothing. But I have a strong idea that the Government have at least a
+suspicion of some secret understanding between Russia and Germany. Their
+preparations seem almost to suggest it. Of course we outsiders can only
+guess, after all, at what is going on, but it seems to me that there is
+a chance to-day for our Government to achieve a diplomatic _coup_."
+
+"In what direction?"
+
+"An alliance with France. Mind, I am afraid that there are
+insurmountable obstacles, but if it were possible it would be checkmate
+to our friend the Emperor, and he would have nothing left but to climb
+down. The trouble is that in the absence of any definite proof of an
+understanding between Russia and Germany, France could not break away
+from her alliance with the former. Our present arrangement would ensure,
+I believe, a benevolent neutrality, but an alliance, if only it could be
+compassed, would be the greatest diplomatic triumph of our days. Hullo!
+Visitors at this hour. Wasn't that your front-door bell, Duncombe?"
+
+"It sounded like it," Duncombe answered. "Perhaps it is your man."
+
+"Like his cheek, if it is!" Lord Runton answered, rising to his feet and
+strolling towards the sideboard. "I told him I would telephone round to
+the stables when I was ready. I suppose it is rather late, though I
+sha'n't apologize for keeping you up."
+
+"I hope you won't," Duncombe answered. "I have never been more
+interested in my life--for many reasons. Don't bother about your man.
+Groves will see to him. Help yourself to another whisky and soda, and
+come and sit down."
+
+There was a knock at the door, and the butler appeared.
+
+"There are three gentlemen outside, sir, who wish to see you," he
+announced to Duncombe. "They will not give their names, but they say
+that their business is important, or they would not have troubled you so
+late."
+
+Duncombe glanced at the clock. It was past midnight.
+
+"Three gentlemen," he repeated, "at this time of night. But where on
+earth have they come from, Groves?"
+
+"They did not say, sir," the man answered. "One of them I should judge
+to be a foreigner. They have a motor car outside."
+
+Lord Runton held out his hand.
+
+"Well, it's time I was off, anyhow," he remarked. "Come over and have
+lunch to-morrow. Don't bother about me. I'll stroll round to the stables
+and start from there. Good night."
+
+Duncombe hesitated. He was on the point of asking his friend to stay,
+but before he could make up his mind Runton had lit a cigarette and
+strolled away.
+
+"You can show the gentlemen in here, Groves," Duncombe said.
+
+"Very good, sir."
+
+The man disappeared. Duncombe, after a moment's hesitation, crossed the
+room, and opening an oak cupboard, slipped a small revolver into his
+pocket.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+ARRESTED!
+
+
+One of his three visitors Duncombe recognized immediately. It was
+Monsieur Louis. Of the other two one was a Frenchman, a somewhat
+sombre-looking person, in a black beard and gold-rimmed eyeglasses, the
+other as unmistakably an Englishman of the lower middle class. His broad
+shoulders and somewhat stiff bearing seemed to suggest some sort of
+drill. Looking them over, Duncombe found himself instinctively wondering
+whether the personal strength of these two, which was obvious, might
+become a factor in the coming interview.
+
+The Baron naturally was spokesman. He bowed very gravely to Duncombe,
+and did not offer his hand.
+
+"I must apologize, Sir George," he said, "for disturbing you at such an
+inopportune hour. Our business, however, made it necessary for us to
+reach you with as little delay as possible."
+
+"Perhaps you will be good enough to explain," Duncombe answered, "what
+that business is."
+
+The Baron raised his hands with a little protesting gesture.
+
+"I regret to tell you, Sir George," he announced, "that it is of a most
+unpleasant nature. I could wish that its execution had fallen into other
+hands. My companions are Monsieur Ridalle, of the French detective
+service, and our other friend here, whom I do not know, is a constable
+from the Norwich Police Court. My own connections with the police
+service of my country you have already, without doubt, surmised."
+
+"Go on," Duncombe said.
+
+"I regret to say," Monsieur Louis continued, "that my friends here are
+in charge of a warrant for your arrest. You will find them possessed of
+all the legal documents, French and English. We shall have to ask you to
+come to Norwich with us to-night."
+
+"Arrest!" Duncombe repeated. "On what charge?"
+
+"An extremely serious one," the Baron answered gravely. "The charge of
+murder!"
+
+Duncombe stared at him in amazement.
+
+"Murder!" he repeated. "What rubbish!"
+
+"The murder of Mademoiselle de Mermillon in her lodging on the night of
+the seventh of June last," the Baron said gravely. "Please do not make
+any remarks before these men. The evidence against you is already
+sufficiently strong."
+
+Duncombe laughed derisively.
+
+"What sort of a puppet show is this?" he exclaimed. "You know as well as
+any man living how that poor girl came to her end. This is a cover for
+something else, of course. What do you want of me? Let's get at it
+without wasting time."
+
+"What we want of you is, I am afraid, only too simple," the Baron
+answered, shrugging his shoulders. "We must ask you to accompany us at
+once to Norwich Castle. You will have to appear before the magistrates
+in the morning, when they will sign the extradition warrant. Our friend
+here, Monsieur Ridalle, will then take charge of you. Perhaps you would
+like to look through the documents. You will find them all in perfect
+order."
+
+Duncombe mechanically glanced through the French and English papers
+which were spread out before him. They had certainly a most
+uncomfortable appearance of being genuine. He began to feel a little
+bewildered.
+
+"You mean to say that you have come here to arrest me on this charge?
+That you want me to go away with you to-night?" he asked.
+
+"It is not a matter of wanting you to come," the Baron answered coldly.
+"It is a matter of necessity."
+
+Duncombe moved towards the fireplace.
+
+"Will you allow me the privilege of a few moments' conversation with you
+in private?" he said to the Baron. "Your companions will perhaps excuse
+you for a moment."
+
+The Baron followed without remark. They stood facing one another upon
+the hearthrug. Duncombe leaned one elbow upon the mantlepiece, and
+turned towards his companion.
+
+"Look here," he said, "those papers seem genuine enough, and if you
+insist upon it I will go with you to Norwich. I shall take care not to
+let you out of my sight, and if when we get there I find that this is
+any part of one of your confounded conspiracies you will find that the
+penalties for this sort of thing in England are pretty severe. However,
+no doubt you are well aware of that. The question is this. What do you
+really want from me?"
+
+Monsieur Louis, who had lit a cigarette, withdrew it from his mouth and
+examined the lighted end for a moment in silence.
+
+"The documents," he said, "are genuine. You are arraigned in perfectly
+legal fashion. Upon the affidavits there the magistrates must grant the
+extradition warrant without hesitation. We have nothing to fear in that
+direction."
+
+"The police," Duncombe remarked, "are perfectly aware of my innocence."
+
+Monsieur shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"The evidence," he said, "is remarkably convincing."
+
+"Police-concocted evidence," Duncombe remarked, "would necessarily be
+so. I admit that you hold a strong card against me. I don't believe,
+however, that you have gone to all this trouble without some ulterior
+motive. What is it? What can I offer you in exchange for these
+documents?"
+
+Monsieur Louis smiled.
+
+"You are a man of common-sense, Sir George," he said. "I will speak to
+you without reserve. It is possible that you might be able to offer the
+Government department of my country to which I am attached an inducement
+to interest themselves in your behalf. Mind, I am not sure. But if my
+information is correct there is certainly a possibility."
+
+"The Government department of your country to which you are attached,"
+Duncombe repeated thoughtfully. "Let me understand you. You mean the
+secret service police?"
+
+Monsieur Louis glanced a little nervously over his shoulder.
+
+"Never mind what I mean, Sir George," he said quickly. "There are things
+which we do not speak of openly. This much is sufficient. I represent a
+power which can influence and direct even the criminal courts of justice
+of France."
+
+"What bribe have I to offer you?" Duncombe asked. "Information? You know
+more than I do. I am afraid you have been misled."
+
+"I think not," Monsieur Louis said quickly. "I will tell you what we
+want. A paper was left in your charge by Miss Phyllis Poynton at the
+time she was visiting at Runton Place."
+
+"What of it?" Duncombe asked.
+
+The Frenchman's face was suddenly tense with excitement. He recovered
+himself almost at once, but his voice shook, and a new earnestness found
+its way into his manner.
+
+"Miss Poynton and her brother are with us," he said. "It is we who have
+been their benefactors. You know a good deal of their peculiar
+circumstances. A sudden need has arisen for the production of that paper
+within twenty-four hours. Give it to me now, and I will run the greatest
+risk I have ever run in my career. I will tear those warrants through."
+
+"Have you any authority from Miss Poynton?" Duncombe asked.
+
+"There was no time to procure it," Monsieur Louis explained. "Events
+march rapidly to-day. To be effective that paper must be in Paris
+to-morrow. The necessity for its production arose only a few hours ago."
+
+"You ask me, then," Duncombe said slowly, "to hand over to you a paper
+which was placed in my charge by Miss Poynton?"
+
+"In effect--yes!"
+
+"I cannot do it!"
+
+Monsieur Louis shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"I do not insist," he remarked. "I may be permitted to remind you,
+however, that I have offered a great price."
+
+"Perhaps!" Duncombe answered quietly.
+
+Monsieur Louis turned to his assistants.
+
+"Sir George Duncombe will accompany us," he said. "I can give you ten
+minutes, Sir George," he added, "in case you care to change your
+clothes."
+
+"And supposing I refuse to come?" Duncombe asked.
+
+Monsieur Louis smiled.
+
+"You would scarcely be so foolish," he remarked. "In that case I should
+send the policeman here to the nearest station with the warrants and a
+demand for help. Our documents are in perfect order, and our case
+complete. You would scarcely be so foolish, I think, as to set yourself
+in direct opposition to the law!"
+
+Duncombe was silent for several moments. Then he rang the bell. Monsieur
+Louis looked at him inquiringly, but before he could frame a question
+the butler was in the room.
+
+"Pack my things for a week, Groves," Duncombe ordered. "I am going away
+to-night."
+
+The man bowed and withdrew. Monsieur Louis merely shrugged his
+shoulders.
+
+"A week!" he remarked. "You will be fortunate if you ever see your home
+again. Come, Sir George, be reasonable! I give you my word of honor that
+it is altogether to the interest of Miss Poynton that those papers be
+immediately produced. If she were here herself she would place them in
+my hands without a moment's hesitation."
+
+"Possibly!" Duncombe answered. "Suppositions, however, do not interest
+me. I undertook the charge of what she gave me, and I shall fulfil my
+trust."
+
+Monsieur Louis turned to the policeman.
+
+"Officer," he said, "this is Sir George Duncombe. Do your duty."
+
+The man stepped forward and laid his hand upon Sir George's shoulder.
+
+"Very sorry, sir," he said. "I am forced to arrest you on this warrant
+for the murder of Florence Mermillon on the night of the seventh of
+June. You will be brought before the magistrates at Norwich to-morrow."
+
+Duncombe waved his hand towards the sideboard.
+
+"If you gentlemen," he remarked, "would care for a little refreshment
+before you start?"
+
+"It is against the rules, sir, thank you," the man answered. "I should
+be glad to get away as soon as possible."
+
+Duncombe filled both his pockets with cigars and cigarettes. Then he
+turned towards the door.
+
+"I am quite ready," he said.
+
+They followed him out. There was a few minutes' delay waiting for
+Duncombe's bag.
+
+"Your address, Sir George?" Groves inquired, as he brought it down.
+
+"A little doubtful," Duncombe answered. "I will wire."
+
+"In front, please, Sir George," Monsieur Louis insisted.
+
+So they drove off, Duncombe in the front seat, the other three behind.
+The car gathered speed rapidly. In less than an hour they were half-way
+to Norwich. Then suddenly the driver took a sharp corner and turned down
+a long desolate lane.
+
+"You're off the main road," Duncombe explained. "You should have kept
+straight on for Norwich."
+
+The man took no notice. He even increased his speed. Duncombe was in the
+act of turning round when he felt the sudden swish of a wet cloth upon
+his face. He tried to break away, but he was held from behind as in a
+vise. Then his head fell back, and he remembered no more.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+THE CHECKMATING OF MONSIEUR LOUIS
+
+
+At three o'clock in the morning Groves, in a discarded dressing-gown of
+his master's, opened the front door and peered cautiously out into the
+darkness. Monsieur Louis, who was standing upon the door-step, pushed
+past him into the hall.
+
+"Your master has sent me back to fetch some papers," he announced,
+displaying a bunch of keys. "I am sorry to disturb you like this, but
+the matter is important. Please bring me a cup of coffee into the
+library in half an hour."
+
+Groves, who was sorely perplexed, stood with his back to the door which
+Monsieur Louis had approached.
+
+"Really, sir," he answered, "I scarcely know what to say. I am afraid
+that I cannot allow you to interfere with any of my master's property in
+his absence."
+
+Monsieur Louis held out the keys.
+
+"Quite right!" he said. "It is an awkward situation, of course. Your
+master did not tell you the reason of his sudden departure, I suppose?"
+
+"Not a word, sir."
+
+"There can be no harm in telling you this much, at any rate," Monsieur
+Louis continued smoothly. "Your master, through no fault of his own, got
+mixed up in a very unpleasant affair in Paris, and he will have to
+appear in the courts there. I am his friend, and wish to do all that I
+can to help him. We have been talking the matter over, and I have
+strongly advised him to produce some papers which I think will help him
+materially. The police officer in whose charge he is would not allow him
+to return, so he handed me his keys and asked me to fetch them. I can
+assure you that I am your master's friend, and wish to do all that I can
+to help him. If he had not trusted me he would not have given me his
+keys, which no doubt you recognize."
+
+Groves reluctantly stood on one side.
+
+"I suppose I must let you in, sir," he said, "but I wish that the master
+had sent me a line."
+
+"We had neither pencil nor paper," Monsieur Louis said, "and the affair
+was urgent. I must be back in Norwich by eight o'clock."
+
+"I will prepare the coffee, sir," Groves said, turning away. "If you
+require more light the switches are behind the door."
+
+"Very good," Monsieur Louis said. "You need not have the slightest
+anxiety. I am here on your master's behalf."
+
+Groves hesitated, and looked for a moment curiously around the room. He
+seemed as though he had something else to say, but checked himself at
+the last moment and withdrew. Monsieur Louis drew a little breath of
+relief.
+
+He did not immediately proceed to work. He threw off his overcoat and
+lit a cigarette. His fingers were steady enough, but he was conscious of
+an unwonted sense of excitement. He was face to face with destiny. He
+had played before for great stakes, but never such as these. A single
+false step, an evil turn in the wheel of fortune, spelt death--and he
+was afraid to die. He moved to the sideboard. Everything there was as
+they had left it. He poured out some brandy and drank it off.
+
+With fresh courage he moved to the safe, which stood in the corner of
+the room. It must be there, if anywhere, that this precious document
+lay. He tried his keys one by one. At last he found the right one. The
+great door swung slowly open.
+
+He was spared all anxiety. There, on the top of a pile of legal-looking
+documents, leases, title-deeds, and the like, was a long envelope, and
+across it in Duncombe's sprawling writing these few words:--
+
+     "Entrusted to me by Miss Poynton.--Sept. 4th."
+
+He grasped it in his fingers and tore open the envelope. As he read the
+single page of closely written writing his eyes seemed almost to
+protrude. He gave a little gasp. No wonder there were those who reckoned
+this single page of manuscript worth a great fortune. Every sentence,
+every word told its own story. It was a page of the world's history.
+
+Then a strange thing happened. Some part of him rebelled against the
+instinct which prompted him carefully to fold and place in his
+breast-pocket this wonderful find of his. His nerves seemed suddenly
+frozen in his body. There was a curious numb sensation at the back of
+his neck which forbade him to turn round. His hands shook, his teeth
+chattered. The sweat of death was upon his forehead and despair in his
+heart. He had heard nothing, seen nothing; yet he knew that he was no
+longer alone.
+
+When at last he turned round he turned his whole body. The muscles of
+his neck were numbed still his knees shook, and his face was ghastly.
+Monsieur Louis of the Cafe Montmartre, brave of tongue and gallant of
+bearing, had suddenly collapsed. Monsieur Louis, the drug-sodden
+degenerate of a family whose nobles had made gay the scaffolds of the
+Place de la Republique, cowered in his place.
+
+It was the worst upon which he looked with chattering teeth, but without
+surprise. The door of the inner room was open, and upon the threshold
+stood Toquet, small, dark, and saturnine--Toquet, with something which
+glittered in his hand, so that Monsieur Louis, already the prey of a
+diseased and ghastly imagination, felt the pain of the bullet in his
+heart. On an easy-chair by the fireside Henri de Bergillac was lounging,
+with a queer smile upon his lips.
+
+"My friend," he said quietly, though the scorn which underlay his words
+seemed to bite the air, "you have solved for us a double problem: first,
+how to account for the absence of our host; and secondly, how to open
+that very formidable-looking safe. You will be so good as to place upon
+the table that document which you hold in your hands."
+
+For a single second Monsieur Louis hesitated. Some lingering vestige of
+a courage, purely hereditary, showed him in one lightning-like flash how
+at least he might carry with him to a swift grave some vestige of his
+ruined self-respect. A traitor to his old friends, he might keep faith
+with the new. He had time to destroy. Even the agonies of death might
+last long enough to complete the task. But the impulse was only
+momentary. He shuddered afresh at the thought that he might have yielded
+to it. He threw it upon the table.
+
+The Vicomte rose to his feet, glanced through the closely written page
+with something of the same excitement which had inspired its recent
+possessor, and carefully buttoned it up in his breast-pocket. Then he
+turned once more to the man who stood before them broken and trembling.
+
+"Louis," he said, "you are the first traitor whom our society has
+hatched. I look upon you with curiosity as a thing I once called my
+friend. What imbecility prompted you to this?"
+
+Monsieur Louis found nerve to shrug his shoulders.
+
+"A million francs!" he answered.
+
+"Heavens, but what folly!" the Vicomte murmured. "Did we not all know
+that a German was in Paris who offered a million, or two million francs
+for the missing page of that treaty? Do you think that he was not
+watched day and night? Bah! I have no patience to talk of this. What
+have you done with our host?"
+
+"Arrested him for--Flossie! He is in a ditch half-way to Norwich."
+
+"Hurt?"
+
+"No! Chloroformed."
+
+"How did you get here?"
+
+"In an automobile from Lynn!"
+
+"Good! It waits for you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"We will take it. My good friend here, Toquet, is familiar with the
+neighborhood. As Mr. Fielding, the American millionaire, you learned the
+excellence of these roads for quick travelling, did you not, _mon ami_?
+So!"
+
+"You leave me here?" Monsieur Louis faltered.
+
+"Ay, to rot if you will!" the Vicomte answered with sudden harshness.
+
+"I will atone," Monsieur Louis faltered. "It was a single false step."
+
+De Bergillac looked down upon him with unspeakable contempt.
+
+"Atone! Listen, Louis! In this country you are safe. Crawl away into
+some hiding-place and make what you will of the rest of your days, but I
+will promise you this. If ever you set your feet upon one inch of France
+you shall meet with your deserts. There are many things which those who
+play the great game must pardon, but there is one crime for which no
+atonement is possible, and you have committed it. You are a traitor!"
+
+De Bergillac turned away. The effeminacy of his manner seemed to have
+disappeared under the strain of his extreme anger. It was his race,
+after all, which had asserted itself. And then the door was thrown
+suddenly open and a wild-looking figure confronted them.
+
+It was Duncombe, muddy from head to foot, pale and with a slight wound
+upon the temple, from which the blood had trickled down his face. He saw
+the open safe, and Monsieur Louis a pitiful figure, and he did not
+hesitate. He scarcely glanced at the others. He strode forward and
+seized the Baron by the collar.
+
+"Give me back what you have stolen, you blackguard!" he exclaimed.
+
+Monsieur Louis was breathless. It was the young Vicomte who interposed.
+
+"Our friend," he remarked suavely, "has not been successful in his
+little effort. The document he came to purloin is in my pocket, and
+here, Sir George, is my warrant for retaining possession of it."
+
+He held out a note which Duncombe took and read with a little sigh of
+relief.
+
+"Good!" he exclaimed. "You have the document?"
+
+De Bergillac tapped his breast-pocket.
+
+"It is here," he said.
+
+Duncombe turned to Monsieur Louis.
+
+"My arrest, then," he remarked, "was part of the game?"
+
+"Exactly!" De Bergillac answered. "This little document entrusted to
+your care by the young English lady was worth one million francs to the
+man who suborned our friend here. It was worth while--this little
+enterprise. The pity of it is that it has failed. Sir George, I go to
+Paris to-night. I offer you a safe conduct if you care to accompany me.
+_L'affaire Poynton_ does not exist any more."
+
+"Can you give me ten minutes to change my clothes?" Duncombe asked
+eagerly.
+
+"No more," De Bergillac answered. "I will get rid of our friend here."
+
+There was a knock at the door. Groves entered with coffee. At the sight
+of his master he nearly dropped the tray.
+
+"It's all right," Duncombe said, smiling. "We had a little spill, and
+I've lost my bag. Pack me some more things quickly."
+
+"Very good, sir," Groves answered, and withdrew precipitately.
+
+De Bergillac laid his hand upon Duncombe's arm.
+
+"There is only one thing, my friend," he said. "I trust that it is Mr.
+Guy Poynton who is your friend, and not his beautiful sister? Eh? I am
+answered! The misfortune! Never mind! I will drink my coffee to _les
+beaux yeux des autres_!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE MAKING OF HISTORY
+
+
+Three men were the sole occupants of the great room whose windows looked
+out upon the Louvre.
+
+The table around which they were seated was strewn with papers and maps.
+The door of the room was locked, and a sentry stood outside in the
+passage. The three men were busy making history.
+
+The man who occupied the seat at the head of the table was the Monsieur
+Grisson to whom Guy Poynton, at the instigation of the Duc de Bergillac,
+had told his story. It was he who was spokesman.
+
+"The situation," he said, "is one which bristles with difficulties. We
+will assume for a moment the truth of what we have certainly reasonable
+ground to believe. Russia has shown every sign of disappointment with us
+for our general attitude during the war. Our understanding with England
+has provoked a vigorous though unofficial protest from her
+representatives here. Since then our relations have become to a certain
+extent strained. Germany, ever on the look-out for complications which
+might lead to her own advantage, steps in. Her attitude towards Russia
+is changed to one of open and profound sympathy. Russia, in her
+desperate straits, rises like a starving fish to a fat fly. Here it is
+that our secret service steps in."
+
+"Our secret service--and her allies," one of the other men murmured.
+
+"Exactly! We pass now to the consideration of facts which need one thing
+only to justify our course of action. Evidence is brought to us that a
+secret meeting took place between the Czar of Russia and the Emperor of
+Germany. From all the information which we have collected that meeting
+was possible. I personally believe that it took place. A treaty is said
+to have been drawn up between them, having for its object the
+embroilment of England with Russia, and an alliance of Germany with
+Russia so far as regards her quarrel with England. We know that Germany
+is secretly mobilizing men and ships. We know that the ambition of the
+Emperor is to possess himself of the Colonies of Great Britain, if not
+actually to hold his court in London. We know that his jealousy of King
+Edward amounts to a disease. We know that he is a man of daring and
+violent temper, with an indomitable will and an unflinching belief in
+his own infallibility and the infallibility of his army and navy. We
+know that he has at least a dozen schemes for a sudden attack upon
+England, and mighty though the navy of Great Britain is, it is not in
+our opinion strong enough to protect her shore from the combined Baltic
+and German fleets and also protect her Colonies. England, through our
+friendship, has been warned. She proposes with most flattering alacrity
+the only possible counter-stroke--an alliance with ourselves. We must
+decide within twelve hours. The treaty lies upon my desk there. Upon us
+must rest the most momentous decision which any Frenchman within our
+recollection has been called upon to make. What have you to say,
+gentlemen?"
+
+There was a short silence. Then the man who sat at Monsieur Grisson's
+right hand spoke.
+
+"The issues before us," he said slowly, "are appalling. Every
+Frenchman's blood must boil at the thought of Germany greedily helping
+herself to the mighty wealth and power of Great Britain--becoming by
+this single master-stroke the strongest nation on earth, able to dictate
+even to us, and to send her word unchallenged throughout the world. It
+is a hideous picture! It must mean the abandonment forever of the hope
+of every true Frenchman. Every minute will become a menace to us.
+Wilhelm, the arrogant, with British gold and British ships at his back,
+will never forget to flaunt himself before us to our eternal
+humiliation."
+
+"You are taking it for granted," his neighbor remarked, "that Germany
+will be successful."
+
+"The odds are in her favor," was the quiet reply. "The navy of Great
+Britain is immense, but her sea front, so to speak, is enormous. She is
+open to be the prey of a sudden swift attack, and the moment has never
+been more favorable."
+
+"Let all these things be granted," the third man said. "Even then, are
+we free to enter into this alliance with England? Our treaty with Russia
+remains. We have no proof that she has broken faith with us. If this
+secret treaty between Russia and Germany really exists, it is, of
+course, another matter. But does it? We have nothing but the word of an
+English boy. The rest is all assumption. The whole affair might be a
+nightmare. We might sign this treaty with England, and find afterwards
+that we had been the victim of a trick. We should be perjured before the
+face of all Europe, and our great financial interest in Russia would at
+once be placed in a perilous position."
+
+A telephone upon the table rang softly. Monsieur Grisson held the
+receiver to his ear and listened. Then he rose to his feet.
+
+"Count von Munchen desires a word with me," he announced. "He pledges
+himself not to keep me more than five minutes. I had better receive him.
+Excuse me, gentlemen."
+
+The two men were left alone. The elder and stouter of the two busied
+himself with an inch rule and an atlas. He seemed to be making
+calculations as to the distance between Cherbourg and a certain spot in
+the North Sea.
+
+"What is the chief's own mind?" his companion asked. "Does any one
+know?"
+
+The other shook his head.
+
+"Who can say? Our ties of friendship with England are too recent to make
+this a matter of sentiment. I believe that without proof he fears to
+accept this statement. And yet above all things he fears Germany. There
+was some talk of a missing page of the actual treaty between Russia and
+Germany. If this could be found I believe that he would sign the draft
+treaty."
+
+"I myself," the other said, "do not believe that England would be so
+easily overpowered."
+
+"It is the suddenness and treachery of the attack which counts so
+greatly in its favor," his companion said. "It might be all over in two
+days before she could assemble a fifth part of her forces. If our
+information is correct Germany has men enough mobilized to run huge
+risks. Besides, you know how Lafarge's report ran, and what he said. The
+German army is beginning to suffer from a sort of dry rot, as must all
+institutions which fulfil a different purpose than that for which they
+exist. The Emperor knows it. If war does not come Germany will have to
+face severe military troubles."
+
+"I myself am for the alliance!"
+
+"And I," the other replied, "if proof of this Germano-Russian
+understanding could be produced."
+
+Monsieur Grisson returned. He carefully closed and locked the door
+behind him.
+
+"Gentlemen," he said, "the German Ambassador has just left me. His
+mission in every way confirms our secret information. He has been
+instructed to inquire as to our attitude in the event of any British
+interference with the Baltic Fleet while in home waters."
+
+The two men looked up expectantly. Monsieur Grisson continued:--
+
+"I replied that it was a contingency which we scarcely thought it worth
+while to consider. I expressed my firm belief that England would observe
+all the conventions, written and understood, of international law."
+
+"And he?"
+
+"He was not satisfied, of course. He declared that he had certain
+information that England was making definite plans with a view to ensure
+the delay of the fleet. He went on to say that Germany was determined
+not to tolerate any such thing, and he concludes that we, as Russia's
+ally, would at any rate remain neutral should Germany think it her duty
+to interfere."
+
+"And your reply?"
+
+"I answered that in the event of untoward happenings France would act as
+her honor dictated--remaining always mindful of the obligations of her
+alliance. He was quite satisfied."
+
+"He had no suspicion of this?" the young man asked, touching the treaty
+with his forefinger.
+
+"None. It is believed in Germany that the young Englishman was really
+found drowned in the Seine after a short career of dissipation. Our
+friends served us well here. Now, gentlemen, the English Ambassador will
+be here in twenty minutes. What am I to say to him? Do we sign this
+draft agreement or do we not?"
+
+There was a silence which lasted nearly a minute. Then the younger of
+the two men spoke.
+
+"Sir," he said respectfully, "without some proof of Russia's falsity I
+cannot see how in honor we can depart from our treaty obligations with
+her to the extent of signing an agreement with her putative enemy.
+England must fight her own battle, and God help her!"
+
+"And you?" Monsieur Grisson asked, turning to the third man.
+
+"I agree," was the regretful answer. "If this treacherous scheme is
+carried out I believe that France will be face to face with the greatest
+crisis she has known in history. Even then I dare not suggest that we
+court dishonor by breaking an alliance with a friend in distress."
+
+"You are right, gentlemen," Monsieur Grisson said with a sigh. "We must
+tell Lord Fothergill that our relations with his country must remain
+unfettered. I----"
+
+Again the telephone bell rang. Monsieur Grisson listened, and replied
+with a sudden return to his old briskness of manner.
+
+"It is young De Bergillac," he announced. "He has been in England in
+search of that missing page of the treaty. I have told them to show him
+in."
+
+The Vicomte entered, paler than ever from recent travel, and deeply
+humiliated from the fact that there was a smut upon his collar which he
+had had no time to remove. He presented a paper to Monsieur Grisson and
+bowed. The President spread it out upon the table, and the faces of the
+three men as they read became a study. Monsieur Grisson rang the bell.
+
+"Monsieur le Duc de Bergillac and a young English gentleman," he told
+the attendant, "are in my private retiring-room. Desire their presence."
+
+The servant withdrew. The three men looked at one another.
+
+"If this is genuine!" the younger murmured.
+
+"It is the Russian official paper," his _vis-a-vis_ declared, holding it
+up to the light.
+
+Then the Duc de Bergillac and Guy Poynton were ushered in. Monsieur
+Grisson rose to his feet.
+
+"Monsieur Poynton," he said, "we have all three heard your story as to
+what you witnessed in the forest of Pozen. It is part of your allegation
+that a page of writing from the private car which you were watching was
+blown to your feet, and that you picked it up and brought it to Paris
+with you. Look at this sheet of paper carefully. Tell me if it is the
+one."
+
+Guy glanced at it for a moment, and handed it back.
+
+"It is certainly the one," he answered. "If you look at the back you
+will see my initials there and the date."
+
+Monsieur Grisson turned it over quickly. The two other men looked over
+his shoulder, and one of them gave a little exclamation. The initials
+and date were there.
+
+Then Monsieur Grisson turned once more to Guy. He was not a tall man,
+but he had dignity, and his presence was impressive. He spoke very
+slowly.
+
+"Monsieur Guy Poynton," he said, "it is not often that so great an
+issue--that the very destinies of two great countries must rest upon the
+simple and uncorroborated story of one man. Yet that is the position in
+which we stand to-day. Do not think that you are being treated with
+distrust. I speak to you not on behalf of myself, but for the millions
+of human beings whose welfare is my care, and for those other millions
+of your own countrymen, whose interests must be yours. I ask you
+solemnly--is this story of yours word for word a true one?"
+
+Guy looked him in the face resolutely, and answered without hesitation.
+
+"On my honor as an Englishman," he declared, "it is true!"
+
+Monsieur Grisson held out his hand.
+
+"Thank you!" he said.
+
+The three men were again alone. The man who controlled the destinies of
+France dipped his pen in the ink.
+
+"Gentlemen," he said, "do you agree with me that I shall sign this
+draft?"
+
+"We do!" they both answered.
+
+The President signed his name. Then he turned the handle of the
+telephone.
+
+"You may show Lord Fothergill in!" he ordered.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+AN OLD FRIEND
+
+
+It was perhaps as well for Andrew Pelham that he could not see Phyllis'
+look as she entered the room. An English gentleman, she had been told,
+was waiting to see her, and she had thought of no one but Duncombe. It
+was true that she had sent him away, but only an hour ago the Marquise
+had told her that her emancipation was close at hand. He too might have
+had a hint! The little smile, however, died away from her lips as she
+saw who was waiting for her with such manifest impatience.
+
+"You, Andrew!" she exclaimed in amazement. "Why, however did you find me
+out?"
+
+He took both her hands in his. The look upon his face was transfiguring.
+
+"At last! At last!" he exclaimed. "Never mind how I found you! Tell me,
+what does it all mean? Are you here of your own free will?"
+
+"Absolutely!" she answered.
+
+"It was you at Runton?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Under a false name--with a man who committed robbery!"
+
+She shrugged her shoulders a little wearily.
+
+"My dear Andrew!" she said, "I will admit that I have been doing all
+manner of incomprehensible things. I couldn't explain everything. It
+would take too long. What I did, I did for Guy's sake, and of my own
+free will. It will be all over in a day or two now, and we shall be
+coming back to Raynesworth. Then I will tell you tales of our adventures
+which will make your hair stand on end."
+
+"It isn't true about Guy, then?" he exclaimed.
+
+She hesitated for a moment.
+
+"Andrew," she said, "I cannot tell you anything. It must sound rather
+horrid of me, but I cannot help it. I want you to go away. In a day or
+two I will write."
+
+He looked at her in pained bewilderment.
+
+"But, Phyllis," he protested, "I am one of your oldest friends! You ask
+me to go away and leave you here with strangers, without a word of
+explanation. Why, I have been weeks searching for you."
+
+"Andrew," she said, "I know it. I don't want to be unkind. I don't want
+you to think that I have forgotten that you are, as you say, one of my
+oldest friends. But there are times when one's friends are a source of
+danger rather than pleasure. Frankly, this is one of them."
+
+His face darkened. He looked slowly around the magnificent room. He saw
+little, but what he could distinguish was impressive.
+
+"Your riddles," he said gravely, "are hard to read. You want me to go
+away and leave you here."
+
+"You must," she said firmly.
+
+"Did you treat Duncombe like this?" he asked in a blind fit of jealousy.
+
+"You have not the right to ask me such a question," she answered
+coldly.
+
+"Not the right! Not the right!" he repeated. "Who else has, then?
+Haven't I watched you grow from a beautiful, capricious child into the
+woman you are? Haven't I taught you, played with you, done your bidding
+blindly ever since you came into your kingdom? Haven't I felt the pain
+and the joy of you in my heart? Who else has a better right, then?
+Duncombe, who came here, a stranger to you--or is it one of your new
+friends?"
+
+She came close to him, and laid her hand upon his shoulder.
+
+"Don't be foolish, Andrew!" she said softly.
+
+His whole expression changed. The bitterness left his tone.
+
+"Ah, Phyllis!" he said. "That is more like yourself."
+
+"And I want you," she said, "to be like your old self. You have always
+been my best friend, Andrew. I hope you will always be that."
+
+He tried to look into her face. It seemed to him that there was a little
+unnecessary emphasis in her words.
+
+"I am not a child now, you know," she continued. "I am quite old enough
+to take care of myself. You must believe that, Andrew. You must go away,
+and not worry about me. You will do this, please, because I ask you!"
+
+"If I must," he said reluctantly. "I will go away, but not to worry
+about you--that is impossible. You seem to be surrounded by all the
+mediaeval terrors which confronted the emancipation of princesses in our
+fairy books. Only a short time ago Duncombe implored me to follow his
+example, and leave you and Paris alone. The detective whom I brought
+with me has been shadowed ever since we left Paris. Last night he left
+me for a few hours, and this morning comes a note from the hospital. He
+is lying there with the back of his head beaten in--garotters, of
+course, the police say, looking for plunder. How can you ask me to be
+easy in my mind about you?"
+
+She smiled reassuringly.
+
+"No harm will come to me here, I can promise you," she said. "It is you
+who run the most risk if you only knew it. Sir George Duncombe gave you
+the best advice when he tried to get you to return to England."
+
+"I cannot leave Lloyd now until he has recovered," Andrew answered.
+"Tell me, Phyllis, has Duncombe found you out? Has he been here?"
+
+"Yes," she answered. "I sent him away--as I am sending you."
+
+"Has he ever told you," Andrew asked, "why he was willing in the first
+instance to come to Paris in search of you?"
+
+"No," she answered. "Wasn't it because he was your friend?"
+
+He shook his head.
+
+"It is his affair, not mine," he said with a sigh. "Ask him some day."
+
+"You won't tell me, Andrew?"
+
+"No! I will go now! You know where to send for me if you should need
+help. I can find my way down, thank you. I have a guide from the hotel
+outside."
+
+The Marquise swept into the room as he passed out, an impression of
+ermine and laces and perfume.
+
+"Another of your English lovers, _ma belle_?" she asked.
+
+"Scarcely that," Phyllis answered. "He is a very old friend, and he was
+rather hard to get rid of."
+
+"I think," the Marquise said, "you would get rid of all very willingly
+for the sake of one, eh?"
+
+The Marquise stared insolently into the girl's face. Phyllis only
+laughed.
+
+"One is usually considered the ideal number--in our country," she
+remarked demurely.
+
+"But the one?" the Marquise continued. "He would not be one of these
+cold, heavy countrymen of yours, no? You have learnt better perhaps over
+here?"
+
+It was a cross-examination, but Phyllis could not imagine its drift.
+
+"I have not had very much opportunity over here, have I, to amend my
+ideals?" she asked. "I think the only two Frenchmen I have met are the
+Marquis and that languid young man with the green tie, the Vicomte de
+Bergillac, wasn't it?"
+
+The Marquise watched her charge closely.
+
+"Well," she said, "he is _comme il faut_, is he not? You find him more
+elegant, more chic than your Englishmen, eh?"
+
+Phyllis shook her head regretfully.
+
+"To me," she admitted, "he seemed like an exceedingly precocious spoilt
+child!"
+
+"He is twenty-three," the Marquise declared.
+
+Phyllis laughed softly.
+
+"Well," she said, "I do not think that I shall amend my ideals for the
+sake of the Vicomte de Bergillac!"
+
+The Marquise looked at her doubtfully.
+
+"Tell me, child," she said, "you mean, then, that of the two--your
+English Sir George Duncombe and Henri--you would prefer Sir George?"
+
+Phyllis looked at her with twinkling eyes.
+
+"You would really like to know?" she asked.
+
+"Yes!"
+
+"Sir George Duncombe--infinitely!"
+
+The Marquise seemed to have recovered her good spirits.
+
+"Come, little one," she said, "you lose color in the house. I will take
+you for a drive!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Andrew, conscious that he was being followed, sat down outside a cafe on
+his way homewards, and bade his guide leave him for a little time.
+Instantly there was the soft rustle of feminine skirts by his side, and
+a woman seated herself on the next chair.
+
+"Monsieur has not been up to the Cafe Montmartre lately!"
+
+Pelham turned his head. It was the young lady from Vienna.
+
+"No!" he answered. "I have not been there since I had the pleasure of
+seeing Mademoiselle!"
+
+"Monsieur has discovered all that he wanted to know?"
+
+He nodded a little wearily.
+
+"Yes, I think so!"
+
+She drew her chair quite close to his. The sable of her turban hat
+almost brushed his cheek, and the perfume of the violets at her bosom
+was strong in his nostrils.
+
+"Monsieur has seen the young lady?"
+
+"I have seen her," he answered.
+
+"Monsieur is indebted to me," she said softly, "for some information.
+Let me ask him one question. Is it true, this story in the newspapers,
+of the finding of this young man's body? Is Monsieur Guy Poynton really
+dead?"
+
+"I know no more than we all read in the newspapers," he answered.
+
+"His sister spoke of him as dead?" she asked.
+
+"I cannot discuss this matter with you, Mademoiselle," he answered.
+
+"Monsieur is ungrateful," she declared with a little grimace. "It is
+only that which I desire to know. He was such a _beau garcon_, that
+young Englishman. You will tell me that?" she whispered.
+
+He shook his head.
+
+"Mademoiselle will excuse me," he said. "I am going to take a carriage
+to my hotel!"
+
+"It is on the way to leave me at my rooms, if you will be so kind," she
+suggested, laying her hand upon his arm.
+
+"Mademoiselle will excuse me," he answered, turning away. "Good
+afternoon."
+
+Mademoiselle also took a carriage, and drove to a large house at the top
+of the Champs Elysees. She was at once admitted, and passed with the air
+of one familiar with the place into a small room at the back of the
+house, where a man was sitting at a table writing. He looked up as she
+entered.
+
+"Well?"
+
+She threw herself into a chair.
+
+"I have been following the Englishman, Pelham, all day," she said in
+German. "He has seen Miss Poynton. I have talked with him since at a
+cafe, but he would tell me nothing. He has evidently been warned."
+
+The man grumbled as he resumed his writing.
+
+"That fact alone should be enough for us," he remarked. "If there is
+anything to conceal we can guess what it is. These amateurs who are in
+league with the secret service are the devil! I would as soon resign.
+What with them and the regular secret service, Paris is an impossible
+city for us. Where we would watch we are watched ourselves. The streets
+and cafes bristle with spies! I do not wonder that you find success so
+difficult, Mademoiselle!"
+
+"I haven't done so badly!" she protested.
+
+"No, for you have not been set easy tasks. Can you tell me, though,
+where that young Englishman disappeared to when he left the Cafe
+Montmartre before your very eyes? Can you tell me whether the secret
+service got hold of his story, how much the French Government believed
+of it, whether they have communicated with the English Government, and
+how much they know? Beyond these things, it is not your province to see,
+or mine, Mademoiselle, and it is not for us to guess at or inquire into
+the meaning of things. Tell me, is it worth while to have this man
+Pelham put out of the way for a time?"
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"I do not think so," she answered. "He is quite stupid. The other, Sir
+George Duncombe, he was different. If he had stayed in Paris he would
+have been worth watching."
+
+A bell rang. The man rose.
+
+"The chief!" he said. "Be at the cafe to-night."
+
+Mademoiselle went away thoughtfully.
+
+"It is over this affair," she said to herself. "Carl knows everything!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+A NEWSPAPER SENSATION
+
+
+Spencer, whose recovery during the last few days had been as rapid as
+the first development of his indisposition, had just changed for dinner,
+and was lighting a _cigarette d'appertit_ when, without waiting to be
+announced, the Vicomte de Bergillac entered the room. Spencer, with
+lightning-like intuition, knew that his time was come.
+
+"Off with your coat, man, and get your code books out. I am going to
+give you the most sensational story which has ever appeared in your
+paper!" he exclaimed. "Only, remember this! It must appear to-morrow
+morning. I am arranging for the French papers to have it. Yours shall be
+the only English journal. Glance through these sheets. They contain the
+story of _l'affaire Poynton_!"
+
+Spencer was master of the gist of the thing in a very few moments. His
+eyes were bright with excitement.
+
+"Who guarantees this?" he asked quickly.
+
+"My uncle has signed it," Henri de Bergillac answered, "and at the
+bottom of the page there you will see a still more distinguished
+signature. You understand _l'affaire Poynton_ now? It is very simple.
+That English boy actually witnessed a meeting between the Czar and the
+Emperor, and turns up in Paris with a loose sheet of a treaty between
+the two, relative to an attack upon England. Our people got hold of him
+at the Cafe Montmartre, and we have hidden him away ever since. Our
+friends, the Germans, who seem to have had some suspicions about him,
+have filled the city with spies, but from the first we have kept them
+off the scent. We had a little difficulty in convincing our friends your
+country-people, but we managed to borrow a few papers from the German
+Ambassador whilst he was staying at a country-house in England, which
+were sufficient."
+
+Spencer was already writing. His coat lay on the floor where he had
+thrown it.
+
+"Don't go for a moment, De Bergillac," he said. "I want to ask you a few
+things. I can talk and code at the same time. What about Miss Poynton?"
+
+"Well, we had to take care of her too," De Bergillac said. "Of course
+all her inquiries over here would have led to nothing, but they knew her
+at the English Embassy, so we walked her off from the Cafe Montmartre
+one night and took her to a friend of mine, the Marquise de St. Ethol.
+We told her a little of the truth, and a little, I'm afraid, which was
+an exaggeration. Anyhow, we kept her quiet, and we got her to go to
+England for us with Toquet. They had a very narrow shave down at Runton,
+by the by."
+
+"After this," Spencer said with a smile, "the secret service people
+proper will have to look to their laurels. It is a triumph for the
+amateurs."
+
+The Vicomte twirled his tiny black moustache.
+
+"Yes," he said, "we have justified ourselves. It has cost us something,
+though!"
+
+"You mean?"
+
+"Louis!"
+
+Spencer stopped writing.
+
+"It was an affair of a million francs," the Vicomte said. "I hope he has
+got the money."
+
+Spencer resumed his work.
+
+"The Baron a traitor!" he exclaimed. "Where is he?"
+
+"In England! We are not vindictive. If the Germans paid him a million
+francs they got nothing for it. He has been watched from the first. We
+knew of it the moment he came to terms with them. He only knows bare
+facts. Nothing beyond. He is going to Brazil, I think. We shall not
+interfere."
+
+"Tell me why," Spencer said, "you were so down on all of us who joined
+in the search for the Poyntons."
+
+"We could not afford to run any risks of your discovering a clue," De
+Bergillac answered, "because you in your turn were closely watched by
+German spies, hoping to discover them through you. That is why we had to
+strike hard at all of you who interfered. I was sorry for little
+Flossie--but she knew the risk she ran. We had to stop you, induce
+Duncombe to leave Paris, and knock on the head a fool of an English
+detective for fear he might discover something. Monsieur Pelham was
+getting into danger, but, of course, it is all over now. To-morrow we
+are bringing Guy into Paris."
+
+Spencer nodded.
+
+"Where is Duncombe?" he asked.
+
+"Back in Paris," De Bergillac answered. "Arrived here with me to-day. He
+is much in love with the beautiful sister. Alas! It was to him that she
+entrusted the missing page of that treaty which she found in her
+brother's luggage. Some day I must tell you of my adventures in England
+last night, when I went over to get it and found Louis a little ahead of
+me."
+
+"Some day," Spencer murmured, writing for dear life, with the
+perspiration streaming down his forehead. "My dear Vicomte, do you mind
+ringing the bell? I want my servant. I must telegraph my paper to warn
+them of this. They must clear two columns of type for me."
+
+The Vicomte did as he was asked. Then he turned towards the door.
+
+"I will leave you," he said. "The dust of England is still in my throat.
+Absinthe, a bath and dinner! _Au revoir, mon ami!_ Confess that I have
+kept the promise which Louis made you. It is what you call a _coup_
+this, eh?"
+
+Out on the boulevards the papers were selling like wildfire. The Vicomte
+bought one, and sitting down outside a cafe ordered absinthe. The great
+headlines attracted him at once. He sipped his absinthe and smiled to
+himself.
+
+"The play commences!" he murmured. "I must return to Monsieur Spencer."
+
+Spencer was still working like a madman.
+
+"I must interrupt you for a moment," De Bergillac said. "I have brought
+you an evening paper. The Baltic Fleet has sunk half a dozen English
+fishing-boats and the whole country is in a frenzy. It is the
+beginning."
+
+Spencer nodded.
+
+"Leave the paper, there's a good fellow," he said. "I will look it
+through presently. If there is time--if there is only time this will be
+the greatest night of my life. No other paper has a hint, you say?"
+
+"Not one!"
+
+"If I could put back the clock a single hour," Spencer muttered. "Never
+mind! Williams, more sheets!"
+
+De Bergillac took his leave. He had telephoned for his motor, which was
+waiting outside. He gave the order to drive to his rooms. On the way he
+passed the great pile of buildings in the Louvre. In a room at the
+extreme end of the pile a light was burning. De Bergillac looked at it
+curiously. A small brougham, which he recognized, stood outside.
+
+"If one could see inside," he muttered. "It should be interesting!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In a sense it was interesting. Monsieur Grisson sat there in front of
+his open table. His secretary's place by his side was vacant. Opposite
+sat a tall man with gray hair and dark moustache. He was dressed for the
+evening, and his breast glittered with stars and orders.
+
+"It is exceedingly kind of you, Monsieur," he said, "to grant me this
+interview at so short notice. I was most anxious to apprise you of news,
+which as yet I believe has not found its way into your papers. You have
+read accounts of a Russian attack upon an English fishing-fleet, but you
+have not yet been informed of the presence--the undoubted presence--of
+Japanese torpedo-boats concealed amongst them."
+
+Monsieur Grisson raised his eyebrows.
+
+"Indeed no!" he answered. "We have not even heard a rumor of anything of
+the sort."
+
+"Nevertheless, their presence was indubitable," the Prince declared. "In
+those circumstances, Monsieur, you can doubtless understand that our
+reply to any protests on the part of England will be of an unpacific
+nature. We should not for a moment allow ourselves to be dictated to by
+the allies of our enemy."
+
+"Naturally!" Monsieur Grisson answered. "On the other hand, you surely
+do not wish to embroil yourself in a quarrel with England at the present
+moment?"
+
+"We wish to quarrel with no one," the Prince answered haughtily. "At the
+same time, we are not afraid of England. We recognize the fact that if
+war should come it is an independent affair, and does not come under the
+obligations of our alliance. We ask, therefore, for your neutrality
+alone."
+
+Monsieur Grisson bowed.
+
+"But, Prince," he said gravely, "you speak lightly enough of the
+possibilities of war, but surely you must know that the English fleet in
+the Channel and at Gibraltar altogether outmatches the Baltic Fleet?"
+
+"A Russian," the Prince answered grandly, "is not afraid of great odds!"
+
+Monsieur Grisson bowed.
+
+"For the sake of humanity," he said, "I trust most sincerely that the
+affair may be peaceably arranged. If the contrary should turn out to be
+the case, I can only say that in a quarrel which concerns Russia and
+England alone, France would remain benevolently neutral. As you have
+remarked, the obligations of our treaty do not apply to such a case."
+
+The Prince played nervously with the star at his chest. Both men were
+well aware that up to now they had been merely playing with words.
+
+"There is another contingency," the Russian remarked, "which, now we are
+upon the subject, it would perhaps be as well to allude to. The
+relations between Germany and England, as you know, just now are very
+sorely strained. If Germany should take advantage of the present
+situation to make a demonstration against England, that, of course,
+would not, from your point of view, affect the situation?"
+
+Monsieur Grisson looked like a man who sees before him amazing things.
+
+"My dear Prince," he said, "do not let us misunderstand one another. You
+cannot by any possibility be suggesting that Germany might associate
+herself with you in your resistance to possible English demands?"
+
+The Russian leaned back in his chair.
+
+"Germany is on the spot," he remarked, "and knows the fact of the case.
+She has proofs of the presence of Japanese torpedo-boats amongst the
+English fishing-fleet. Her natural love of fair play might possibly lead
+her to espouse our cause in this particular instance. This, of course,
+would make for peace. If Germany commands, England will obey. She could
+not do otherwise."
+
+"You have introduced, my dear Prince," Monsieur Grisson said, "an
+altogether new phase of this question, and one which merits the most
+grave consideration. Am I to understand that there is any arrangement
+between Germany and yourself with respect to this question?"
+
+"Scarcely anything so definite as an arrangement," the Prince answered.
+"Merely an understanding!"
+
+Monsieur Grisson had the air of a man who had just received grave
+tidings of his dearest friend.
+
+"Is this, Monsieur le Prince," he said, "entirely in accord with our own
+treaty obligations?"
+
+"We do not consider it to be in contravention to them," the Prince
+answered.
+
+The gravity of Monsieur Grisson's manner grew even more pronounced.
+
+"My dear Prince," he said, "you are doubtless aware that during the last
+few weeks there have been some very strange rumors about as to a meeting
+between your master and the Emperor of Germany, and an agreement which
+was forthwith signed between them. I need not remark that all such
+rumors were entirely discredited here. Such a meeting kept secret from
+us would of course be very seriously considered here."
+
+The Prince smiled. He remained admirably self-possessed, though the very
+veins in his forehead were swollen with anger.
+
+"A canard of the sort has reached my ears," he remarked. "Some English
+boy, I believe, imagined or dreamed that he saw some such meeting. We
+scarcely need, I think, to discuss this seriously."
+
+"Personally I agree with you," Monsieur Grisson said smoothly. "My
+ministry, however, seem to have been a little impressed by the boy's
+story. An autograph letter from the Czar, denying it, would perhaps make
+our negotiations more easy."
+
+"It shall be forthcoming," the Prince remarked, rising. "By the by, I
+hear reports of great activity from Cherbourg. More manoeuvres, eh?"
+
+Monsieur Grisson shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"Our new naval chief," he remarked, "is a marvel of industry. You know
+the English proverb about the new broom, eh?"
+
+The Prince bowed.
+
+"During the next few hours," he remarked, "many things may happen. You
+will be always accessible?"
+
+"I shall not leave my post, Prince!" Monsieur Grisson answered. "You
+will find me here at any time!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+THE MAN WHO SAVED HIS COUNTRY
+
+
+On the following morning the inhabitants of London, Paris, Berlin, and
+St. Petersburg for a sum varying from a halfpenny to a penny were
+treated to sensationalism as thrilling as any six-shilling shocker hot
+from the press and assured of its half-million circulation. One English
+and one French newspaper outdid their competitors by publishing side by
+side with their account of the exploits of the Russian fleet a
+marvellous but circumstantial story of a meeting and alliance between
+the rulers of Germany and Russia. The eyes of the whole world were
+turned towards Kiel, and more wonderful rumors still flashed backwards
+and forwards along the wires throughout Europe. A great mobilization can
+be kept secret up to a certain point, but when men and ships are
+collected and ready the truth must out.
+
+At an unusually early hour Monsieur Grisson, supported now by two
+members of his ministry, received a visit from the Russian and German
+Ambassadors, Prince Korndoff and Count von Munchen. The usual
+compliments were quickly exchanged.
+
+"I have asked my friend Count von Munchen to accompany me," Prince
+Korndoff explained, "because we are here to speak with you on a matter
+concerning which our interests are identical. You have read the demands
+which England has dared to lay before my master with reference to the
+encounter in the North Sea."
+
+Monsieur Grisson bowed.
+
+"I have studied them with great interest," he admitted.
+
+"I do not need tell you then that they are scouted with indignation by
+my master and his advisers," the Prince answered. "Neither shall we
+permit for a single moment the detention of our fleet upon its mission."
+
+"That means, then, war with England," Monsieur Grisson remarked quietly.
+
+"Unless they instantly withdraw their insolent demands--undoubtedly,"
+the Prince answered.
+
+Monsieur Grisson turned to the German.
+
+"And you, Count," he asked, "how does this concern you?"
+
+"We also," the Count answered, "consider the demands of England
+unwarrantable. We believe that there were undoubtedly Japanese torpedo
+boats concealed amongst the English fishing fleet, and we consider that
+the action of the Admiral in command of the Russian fleet was fully
+justified."
+
+"You are prepared, then, to give Russia your moral support?" the
+President asked.
+
+"We are prepared to do more," the Count answered boldly. "If England
+persists in her demands we are prepared to demonstrate against her."
+
+Monsieur Grisson assumed a very grave expression.
+
+"I too," he said, "have lost no time in endeavoring to solve the mystery
+of this North Sea incident. I have been in communication with the
+English Ambassador, and I have collected all the evidence possible.
+There is absolutely no proof obtainable of the presence of any Japanese
+craft amongst the English fishing fleet. I submit, therefore, that this
+is a case for arbitration. I consider that up to the present our friends
+on the other side of the Channel have displayed commendable moderation
+in a time of great excitement, and I am happy to say that I have the
+authority of Lord Fothergill himself for saying that they will consent
+to submitting the affair to a commission of arbitration."
+
+The President's words were received with chilling silence. It was the
+Prince, who, after a short silence, replied.
+
+"Arbitration," he said coldly, "does not commend itself to us. We have
+been insulted. Our country and our gallant fleet have been held up to
+ridicule throughout the whole English Press. We are tired of being
+dictated to and bullied by a weaker Power--the openly declared ally of
+our enemy. England has long been seeking for a _casus belli_ with us. At
+last she has found it."
+
+Monsieur Grisson whispered for a moment to one of his colleagues. Then
+he turned once more to the Prince.
+
+"Let us understand one another, Monsieur le Prince!" he said, "and you,
+Count von Munchen! You have come to announce to me your intention to
+jointly make war upon England. St. Petersburg is to refuse her demands,
+England will naturally strike at the Baltic Fleet, and Germany will send
+her fleet to the rescue, and at the same time land troops somewhere in
+the North of England. Russia, I presume, will withdraw her troops from
+Manchuria and strike at India!"
+
+"No, no!" Count von Munchen protested. "I can assure you, Monsieur, it
+is not our intention to land a single German soldier in England. We are
+interested only to see fair play to Russia. We require that the Baltic
+Fleet shall be allowed to go on its way without molestation."
+
+The President faced the last speaker. His gray bushy eyebrows met in a
+frown.
+
+"Then what, Count," he asked, "is the meaning of the mobilization of two
+hundred thousand men at Kiel? What is the meaning of your State
+railroads running west being closed last night to all public traffic?
+Why have you cabled huge orders for Government supplies? Why were you
+running trains all last night to the coast? Do you suppose that our
+secret service slumbers--that we are a nation of babies?"
+
+The Count made an effort to retain his composure.
+
+"Monsieur le President," he said, "the reports which have reached you
+have been much exaggerated. It is necessary for us to back up our
+protests to England by a show of force!"
+
+Monsieur Grisson smiled.
+
+"Enough of this, gentlemen!" he said. "We will now talk to one another
+as men who have weighty affairs to deal with simply and directly. The
+story of the meeting between your two rulers which you, Prince Korndoff,
+have alluded to as a fairy tale, was a perfectly true one. I have known
+of that meeting some time, and I have certain proof of what transpired
+at it. The North Sea incident was no chance affair. It was a
+deliberately and skilfully arranged _casus belli_, although your
+admiral, Prince Korndoff, had to go one hundred miles out of his way to
+find the Dogger Bank fishing-fleet. You spoke to me last night of
+Cherbourg, Prince. I think that after all your secret service is
+scarcely so successful as mine, for I can assure you that you will find
+there all that is to be found to-day at Kiel."
+
+The Prince was amazed.
+
+"But, Monsieur le President," he exclaimed, "you cannot mean--you, our
+ally----"
+
+The President extended a forefinger.
+
+"It was no part of our alliance," he said sternly, "that you should make
+a secret treaty with another Power and keep hidden from us no less a
+scheme than the invasion of England. My Cabinet have dealt with this
+matter on its own merits. I have the honor to tell you, gentlemen, that
+I have concluded an alliance with England to come into effect in the
+case of your carrying out your present intention. For every army corps
+you succeed in landing in England I too shall land one, only, I think,
+with less difficulty, and for every German ship which clears for action
+in the North Sea two French ones will be prepared to meet her."
+
+"I think, Monsieur le President," he said stiffly, "that this discussion
+had better be postponed until after I have had an opportunity of
+communicating with my Imperial master. I must confess, sir, that your
+attitude is a complete surprise to me."
+
+"As you will, sir," the President answered. "I am perhaps more a man of
+affairs than a diplomatist, and I have spoken to you with less reserve
+than is altogether customary. But I shall never believe that diplomacy
+which chooses the dark and tortuous ways of intrigue and
+misrepresentation is best calculated to uphold and strengthen the
+destinies of a great nation. I wish you good morning, gentlemen!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+For forty-eight hours the war fever raged, and the pendulum swung
+backwards and forwards. The cables between Berlin and St. Petersburg
+were never idle. There was a rumor, amongst those behind the scenes, of
+an enormous bribe offered to France in return for her neutrality alone.
+Its instantaneous and scornful refusal practically brought the crisis to
+an end. The German hosts melted away, and the Baltic Fleet passed on.
+St. Petersburg accepted the British demands, and a commission of
+arbitration was appointed. Henri de Bergillac read out the news from the
+morning paper, and yawned.
+
+"_C'est fini--l'affaire Poynton!_" he remarked. "You can get ready as
+soon as you like, Guy. I am going to take you into Paris to your
+sister!"
+
+Guy looked up eagerly.
+
+"My pardon?" he asked.
+
+The Vicomte made a wry face.
+
+"Heavens!" he exclaimed, "I forgot that there were still explanations to
+make. Fill your abominable pipe, _mon ami_, and think that to-morrow or
+the next day you may be in your beloved England. Think how well we have
+guarded you here when a dozen men were loose in Paris who would have
+killed you on sight. Remember that in the underground history of England
+you will be known always as the man who saved his country. I shouldn't
+wonder in the least if you weren't decorated when you get home. Think of
+all these things--hard!"
+
+"All right!" Guy answered. "Go ahead!"
+
+"You never killed any one. The duel was a fake. You were--not exactly
+sober. That was entirely our fault, and we had to invent some plan to
+induce you to come into hiding peacefully. _Voila tout!_ It is
+forgiven?"
+
+Guy laughed a great laugh of relief.
+
+"Rather!" he exclaimed. "What an ass I must have seemed, asking that old
+Johnny for a pardon."
+
+The Vicomte smiled.
+
+"The old Johnny, Guy, was the President of France. He wanted to know
+afterwards what the devil you meant."
+
+Guy rose to his feet.
+
+"If you tell me anything else," he said, "I shall want to punch your
+head."
+
+The Vicomte laughed.
+
+"Come," he said, "I will return you to your adorable sister!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+A MERRY MEETING
+
+
+Monsieur Albert was not often surprised, and still less often did he
+show it. The party, however, who trooped cheerily into his little
+restaurant at something after midnight on this particular morning,
+succeeded in placing him at a disadvantage.
+
+First there was the Vicomte de Bergillac, one of his most important and
+influential patrons for many reasons, whose presence alone was more than
+sufficient guarantee for whoever might follow. Then there was the
+Marquise de St. Ethol, one of the _haute noblesse_, to welcome whom was
+a surpassing honor.
+
+And then Monsieur Guy Poynton, the young English gentleman, whose single
+appearance here a few weeks back had started all the undercurrents of
+political intrigue, and who for the justification of French journalism
+should at that moment have been slowly dying at the Morgue.
+
+And with him the beautiful young English lady who had come in search of
+him, and who, as she had left the place in the small hours of the
+morning with Monsieur Louis, should certainly not now have reappeared as
+charming and as brilliant as ever, her eyes soft with happiness, and her
+laugh making music more wonderful than the violins of his little
+orchestra.
+
+And following her the broad-shouldered young Englishman, Sir George
+Duncombe, who had once entertained a very dangerous little party in his
+private room upstairs, and against whom the dictum had gone forth.
+
+And following him the Englishman with the heavy glasses, whom _l'affaire
+Poynton_ had also brought before to his cafe, and with whom Mademoiselle
+from Austria had talked long and earnestly.
+
+And lastly Monsieur Spencer, the English journalist, also with a black
+cross after his name, but seemingly altogether unconscious of it.
+
+Monsieur Albert was not altogether at his best. Such a mixture of sheep
+and goats confused him. It was the Vicomte who, together with the head
+waiter, arranged a redistribution of tables so that the whole party
+could sit together. It was the Vicomte who constituted himself host. He
+summoned Monsieur Albert to him.
+
+"Albert," he said, with a little wave of the hand, "these ladies and
+gentlemen are my friends. To quote the words of my charming young
+companion here, Monsieur Guy Poynton, whom you may possibly
+remember"--Monsieur Albert bowed--"we are on the bust! I do not know the
+precise significance of the phrase any more than I suppose you do, but
+it means amongst other things a desire for the best you have to eat and
+to drink. Bring Pomeroy '92, Albert, and send word to your chef that we
+desire to eat without being hungry!"
+
+Monsieur Albert hurried away, glad of the opportunity to escape. Guy
+leaned back in his chair and looked around with interest.
+
+"Same old place," he remarked, "and by Jove, there's the young lady from
+Austria."
+
+The young lady from Austria paid her bill and departed somewhat hastily.
+The Vicomte smiled.
+
+"I think we shall frighten a few of them away to-night!" he remarked.
+"The wine! Good! We shall need magnums to drown our regrets, if indeed
+our English friends desert us to-morrow. Monsieur Guy Poynton,
+unconscious maker of history and savior of your country, I congratulate
+you upon your whole skin, and I drink your health."
+
+Guy drank, and, laughing, refilled his glass.
+
+"And to you, the best of amateur conspirators and most charming of
+hosts," he said. "Come soon to England and bring your automobile, and we
+will conspire against you with a policeman and a stopwatch."
+
+The Vicomte sighed and glanced towards Phyllis.
+
+"In happier circumstances!" he murmured, and then catching the
+Marquise's eye, he was silent.
+
+The band played English music, and the chef sent them up a wonderful
+omelette. Mademoiselle Ermine, from the Folies Bergeres, danced in the
+small space between the tables, and the Vicomte, buying a cluster of
+pink roses from the flower-girl, sent them across to her with a diamond
+pin in the ribbon. The Marquise rebuked him half seriously, but he only
+laughed.
+
+"To-night," he said, "is the end of a great adventure. We amateurs have
+justified our existence. To-night I give away all that I choose. Ah,
+Angele!" he murmured, in her dainty little ear, "if I had but a heart to
+give!"
+
+She flashed a quick smile into his face, but her forehead was wrinkled.
+
+"You have lost it to the young English miss. She is beautiful, but so
+cold!"
+
+"Do you think so?" he whispered. "Look!"
+
+Phyllis was seated next Duncombe, and he too was whispering something in
+her ear. The look with which she answered him, told all that there was
+to know. The Marquise, who had intercepted it, shrugged her shoulders.
+
+"It is not worth while, my friend, that you break your heart," she
+murmured, "for that one can see is an affair arranged."
+
+He nodded.
+
+"After all," he said, "the true Frenchman loves only in his own
+country."
+
+"Or in any other where he may chance to be," she answered drily. "Never
+mind, Henri! I shall not let you wander very far. Your supper-party has
+been delightful--but you see the time!"
+
+They trooped down the narrow stairs laughing and talking. Duncombe and
+Phyllis came last, and their hands met for an instant behind the burly
+commissionaire.
+
+"Until to-morrow!"
+
+"Until to-morrow," she echoed softly, as he handed her into the electric
+_coupe_.
+
+Andrew and he drove down the hill together. Duncombe was a little ill at
+ease.
+
+"There is one thing, Andrew," he said, "which I should like to say to
+you. I want you to remember the night in your garden, when you asked me
+to come to Paris for you."
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"I warned you, didn't I? I knew that it would come, and it has!"
+
+Andrew smiled in gentle scorn.
+
+"My dear Duncombe," he said, "why do you think it necessary to tell me a
+thing so glaringly apparent? I have nothing to blame you for. It was a
+foolish dream of mine, which I shall easily outlive. For, George, this
+has been a great day for me. I believe that my time for dreams has gone
+by."
+
+Duncombe turned towards him with interest.
+
+"What do you mean, Andrew?"
+
+"I have been to see Foudroye, the great oculist. He has examined my eyes
+carefully, and he assures me positively that my eyesight is completely
+sound. In two months' time I shall see as well as any one!"
+
+Duncombe's voice shook with emotion. He grasped his friend's hand.
+
+"That is good--magnificent, Andrew!" he declared.
+
+Their carriage rattled over the cobbled stones as they crossed the
+Square. The white mysterious dawn was breaking over Paris. Andrew threw
+his head back with a laugh.
+
+"Back into the world, George, where dreams are only the cobwebs of time,
+and a man's work grows beneath his hands like a living statue to the
+immortals. I feel my hands upon it, and the great winds blowing. Thank
+God!"
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+Transcriber's note
+
+The following typographical error was corrected in the text:
+
+   Phillis Poynton changed to Phyllis Poynton
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
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+LONE WOLF, THE. By Louis Joseph Vance.
+
+LONG ROLL, THE. By Mary Johnson.
+
+LONESOME LAND. By B. M. Bower.
+
+LORD LOVELAND DISCOVERS AMERICA. By C. N. and A. M. Williamson.
+
+LOST AMBASSADOR. By E. Phillips Oppenheim.
+
+LOST PRINCE, THE. By Frances Hodgson Burnett.
+
+LOST ROAD, THE. By Richard Harding Davis.
+
+LOVE UNDER FIRE. By Randall Parrish.
+
+MACARIA. (Ill. Ed.) By Augusta J. Evans.
+
+MAIDS OF PARADISE, THE. By Robert W. Chambers.
+
+MAID OF THE FOREST, THE. By Randall Parrish.
+
+MAID OF THE WHISPERING HILLS, THE. By Vingie E. Roe.
+
+MAKING OF BOBBY BURNIT, THE. By Randolph Chester.
+
+MAKING MONEY. By Owen Johnson.
+
+MAM' LINDA. By Will N. Harben.
+
+MAN OUTSIDE, THE. By Wyndham Martyn.
+
+MAN TRAIL, THE. By Henry Oyen.
+
+MARRIAGE. By H. G. Wells.
+
+MARRIAGE OF THEODORA, THE. By Mollie Elliott Seawell.
+
+MARY MORELAND. By Marie Van Vorst.
+
+MASTER MUMMER, THE. By E. Phillips Oppenheim.
+
+MAX. By Katherine Cecil Thurston.
+
+MAXWELL MYSTERY, THE. By Carolyn Wells.
+
+MEDIATOR, THE. By Roy Norton.
+
+MEMOIRS OF SHERLOCK HOLMES. By A. Conan Doyle.
+
+MISCHIEF MAKER, THE. By E. Phillips Oppenheim.
+
+MISS GIBBIE GAULT. By Kate Langley Bosher.
+
+MISS PHILURA'S WEDDING GOWN. By Florence Morse Kingsley.
+
+MOLLY MCDONALD. By Randall Parrish.
+
+MONEY MASTER, THE. By Gilbert Parker.
+
+MONEY MOON. THE. By Jeffery Farnol.
+
+MOTOR MAID, THE. By C. N. and A. M. Williamson.
+
+MOTH, THE. By William Dana Orcutt.
+
+MOUNTAIN GIRL, THE. By Payne Erskine.
+
+MR. BINGLE. By George Barr McCutcheon.
+
+MR. GREX OF MONTE CARLO. By E. Phillips Oppenheim.
+
+MR. PRATT. By Joseph C. Lincoln.
+
+MR. PRATT'S PATIENTS. By Joseph C. Lincoln.
+
+MRS. BALFAME. By Gertrude Atherton.
+
+MRS. RED PEPPER. By Grace S. Richmond.
+
+MY DEMON MOTOR BOAT. By George Fitch.
+
+MY FRIEND THE CHAUFFEUR. By C. N. and A. M. Williamson.
+
+MY LADY CAPRICE. By Jeffery Farnol.
+
+MY LADY OF DOUBT. By Randall Parrish.
+
+MY LADY OF THE NORTH. By Randall Parrish.
+
+MY LADY OF THE SOUTH. By Randall Parrish.
+
+
+NE'ER-DO-WELL, THE. By Rex Beach.
+
+NET, THE. By Rex Beach.
+
+NEW CLARION. By Will N. Harben.
+
+NIGHT RIDERS, THE. By Ridgwell Cullum.
+
+NIGHT WATCHES. By W. W. Jacobs.
+
+NOBODY. By Louis Joseph Vance.
+
+
+ONCE UPON A TIME. By Richard Harding Davis.
+
+ONE BRAVER THING. By Richard Dehan.
+
+ONE WAY TRAIL, THE. By Ridgwell Cullum.
+
+OTHERWISE PHYLLIS. By Meredith Nicholson.
+
+
+PARDNERS. By Rex Beach.
+
+PARROTT & CO. By Harold MacGrath.
+
+PARTNERS OF THE TIDE. By Joseph C. Lincoln.
+
+PASSIONATE FRIENDS, THE. By H. G. Wells.
+
+PATROL OF THE SUN DANCE TRAIL, THE. By Ralph Connor.
+
+PAUL ANTHONY, CHRISTIAN. By Hiram W. Hayes.
+
+PERCH OF THE DEVIL. By Gertrude Atherton.
+
+PETER RUFF. By E. Phillips Oppenheim.
+
+PEOPLE'S MAN, A. By E. Phillips Oppenheim.
+
+PHILLIP STEELE. By James Oliver Curwood.
+
+PIDGIN ISLAND. By Harold MacGrath.
+
+PLACE OF HONEYMOON, THE. By Harold MacGrath.
+
+PLUNDERER, THE. By Roy Norton.
+
+POLE BAKER. By Will N. Harben.
+
+POOL OF FLAME, THE. By Louis Joseph Vance.
+
+PORT OF ADVENTURE, THE. By C. N. and A. M. Williamson.
+
+POSTMASTER, THE. By Joseph C. Lincoln.
+
+POWER AND THE GLORY, THE. By Grace McGowan Cooke.
+
+PRAIRIE WIFE, THE. By Arthur Stringer.
+
+PRICE OF LOVE, THE. By Arnold Bennett.
+
+PRICE OF THE PRAIRIE, THE. By Margaret Hill McCarter.
+
+PRINCE OF SINNERS. By A. E. Phillips Oppenheim.
+
+PRINCES PASSES, THE. By C. N. and A. M. Williamson.
+
+PRINCESS VIRGINIA, THE. By C. N. and A. M. Williamson.
+
+PROMISE, THE. By J. B. Hendryx.
+
+PURPLE PARASOL, THE. By Geo. B. McCutcheon.
+
+
+RANCH AT THE WOLVERINE, THE. By B. M. Bower.
+
+RANCHING FOR SYLVIA. By Harold Bindloss.
+
+REAL MAN, THE. By Francis Lynde.
+
+REASON WHY, THE. By Elinor Glyn.
+
+RED CROSS GIRL, THE. By Richard Harding Davis.
+
+RED MIST, THE. By Randall Parrish.
+
+REDEMPTION OF KENNETH GALT, THE. By Will N. Harben.
+
+RED LANE, THE. By Holman Day.
+
+RED MOUSE, THE. By Wm. Hamilton Osborne.
+
+RED PEPPER BURNS. By Grace S. Richmond.
+
+REJUVENATION OF AUNT MARY, THE. By Anne Warner.
+
+RETURN OF TARZAN, THE. By Edgar Rice Burroughs.
+
+RIDDLE OF NIGHT, THE. By Thomas W. Hanshew.
+
+RIM OF THE DESERT, THE. By Ada Woodruff Anderson.
+
+RISE OF ROSCOE PAINE, THE. By J. C. Lincoln.
+
+ROAD TO PROVIDENCE, THE. By Maria Thompson Daviess.
+
+ROBINETTA. By Kate Douglas Wiggin.
+
+ROCKS OF VALPRE, THE. By Ethel M. Dell.
+
+ROGUE BY COMPULSION, A. By Victor Bridges.
+
+ROSE IN THE RING, THE. By George Barr McCutcheon.
+
+ROSE OF THE WORLD. By Agnes and Egerton Castle.
+
+ROSE OF OLD HARPETH, THE. By Maria Thompson Daviess.
+
+ROUND THE CORNER IN GAY STREET. By Grace S. Richmond.
+
+ROUTLEDGE RIDES ALONE. By Will L. Comfort.
+
+
+ST. ELMO. (Ill. Ed.) By Augusta J. Evans.
+
+SALAMANDER, THE. By Owen Johnson.
+
+SCIENTIFIC SPRAGUE. By Francis Lynde.
+
+SECOND VIOLIN, THE. By Grace S. Richmond.
+
+SECRET OF THE REEF, THE. By Harold Bindloss.
+
+SECRET HISTORY. By C. N. & A. M. Williamson.
+
+SELF-RAISED. (Ill.) By Mrs. Southworth.
+
+SEPTIMUS. By William J. Locke.
+
+SET IN SILVER. By C. N. and A. M. Williamson.
+
+SEVEN DARLINGS, THE. By Gouverneur Morris.
+
+SHEA OF THE IRISH BRIGADE. By Randall Parrish.
+
+SHEPHERD OF THE HILLS, THE. By Harold Bell Wright.
+
+SHERIFF OF DYKE HOLE, THE. By Ridgwell Cullum.
+
+SIGN AT SIX, THE. By Stewart Edw. White.
+
+SILVER HORDE, THE. By Rex Beach.
+
+SIMON THE JESTER. By William J. Locke.
+
+SIREN OF THE SNOWS, A. By Stanley Shaw.
+
+SIR RICHARD CALMADY. By Lucas Malet.
+
+SIXTY-FIRST SECOND, THE. By Owen Johnson.
+
+SLIM PRINCESS, THE. By George Ade.
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+Transcriber's notes
+
+The following typographical errors were corrected in the text above:
+
+   1. A. N. Williamson changed to A. M. Williamson
+   2. Caroline Wells changed to Carolyn Wells
+   3. Marjorie Benton Cook changed to Marjorie Benton Cooke
+
+The list of books presented at the bottom of this text ended
+at "The Slim Princess" in the original scans that were used,
+probably due to missing pages. Other copies that were obtained
+did not include this list of books at all.
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MAKER OF HISTORY***
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