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