his reason for coming
was urgent. And, after all, it made little difference. It has only
hastened by a few weeks the end that was bound to come."

"You think that he will die?"

"Yes." Max spoke briefly. His tone was one of indifference.

The Frenchman looked at him curiously. "And what was his reason for
coming?"

"It was a strictly private one," Max said. "This trial had nothing to do
with it. It will certainly never be made public, so I am not at liberty
to speak of it."

"And has he done--that which he left England to do?"

"Not yet, sir, but he may do it--if he lives long enough." Again Max's
tone was devoid of all feeling. He still stood planted squarely against
the closed door.

"And you think he will not do that?"

"On the contrary," said Max, "I think he will--if I am with him to keep
him going."

He spoke with true British doggedness, and a gleam of humour crossed the
Frenchman's face. He made a brief bow.

"M. de Montville is fortunate to possess such a friend," he said.

The corner of Max's mouth went down. "As to that," he said dryly, "he
might do a good deal better, and a very little worse. Now, sir, what are
you going to do?"

The Frenchman looked quizzical. "It seems that I must take your advice,
monsieur, or risk very serious consequences. I shall leave a guard here
during the night, and I must ask you to give me the key of this door.
_Apres cela_"--he shrugged his shoulders--"_nous verrons_."

Max turned without protest, opened the door, and withdrew the key. He
stood a moment listening before he turned back and laid it in the
officer's hand. His face was grave.

"I think I must go to him," he said. "You will see to it that he is not
disturbed?"

"No one will enter without your permission," the Frenchman answered. "And
you, monsieur, will remain with him until I return."

"I see," said Max. Again, for an instant, the fighting gleam was in his
eyes, then carelessly he laughed. "Well, I shan't try to run away. He and
I are down in the same lot. You would find it harder to turn me out than
to keep me here."

"I believe it, monsieur." There was no irony in the words or in the bow
that accompanied them. "And I repeat, he is a happy man who possesses
your friendship."

"Oh, rats!" said Max, and suddenly turned scarlet. "You are talking
through your hat, sir. If you've quite done, I'll go."

It was the most boyish utterance he had permitted himself, and as he gave
vent to it he was s