ch 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 u