ow, 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 P