ee or four times he glanced at
his watch impatiently. Precisely at nine o'clock, a man moved from
somewhere in the throng behind and took the vacant chair by his side.

"If one could trouble monsieur for a match!"

Hunterleys turned towards the newcomer as he handed his matchbox. He was
a young man of medium height, with sandy complexion, a little freckled,
and with a straggling fair moustache. He had keen grey eyes and the
faintest trace of a Scotch accent. He edged his chair a little nearer to
Hunterleys.

"Much obliged," he said. "Wonderful evening, isn't it?"

Hunterleys nodded.

"Have you anything to tell me, David?" he asked.

"We are right in the thick of it," the other replied, his tone a little
lowered. "There is more to tell than I like."

"Shall we stroll along the Terrace?" Hunterleys suggested.

"Don't move from your seat," the young man enjoined. "You are watched
here, and so am I, in a way, although it's more my news they want to
censor than anything personal. This crowd of Germans around us, without
a single vacant chair, is the best barrier we can have. Listen.
Selingman is here."

"I saw him this afternoon at the Sporting Club," Hunterleys murmured.

"Douaille will be here the day after to-morrow, if he has not already
arrived," the newcomer continued. "It was given out in Paris that he was
going down to Marseilles and from there to Toulon, to spend three days
with the fleet. They sent a paragraph into our office there. As a matter
of fact, he's coming straight on here. I can't learn how, exactly, but I
fancy by motor-car."

"You're sure that Douaille is coming himself?" Hunterleys asked
anxiously.

"Absolutely! His wife and family have been bustled down to Mentone, so
as to afford a pretext for his presence here if the papers get hold of
it. I have found out for certain that they came at a moment's notice and
were not expecting to leave home at all. Douaille will have full powers,
and the conference will take place at the Villa Mimosa. That will be the
headquarters of the whole thing.... Look out, Sir Henry. They've got
their eyes on us. The little fellow in brown, close behind, is hand in
glove with the police. They tried to get me into a row last night. It's
only my journalism they suspect, but they'd shove me over the frontier
at the least excuse. They're certain to try something of the sort with
you, if they get any idea that we are on the scent. Sit tight, sir, and
watch. I'm off.