lease tell these others
why you came to my bedroom."

I regret to record that Marie and the other girl looked towards one
another and sniggered. The patron lifted up his hands in amazement.
_Mon Dieu_, what a question! The two English servants did not
understand French.

Rust said nothing. Madame, who had observed the excusable
misunderstanding of her French audience, condescended to explain. "I
am sure," she said, "that Captain Rouille will not suggest that his
visit was designed to attack my honour."

"_Quelle dame extraordinaire_!" moaned the patron. "_C'est
incroyable la sangfroid de celle-la."_

"Of course not," cried Rust, speaking for the first time. "Never would
I have dared to think of such a thing. Madame Gilbert is a lady of the
highest virtue. It was not to compromise her that I entered her room."

"The man," groaned the patron, "is no less extraordinary than the
woman. Why in God's name this pistol, this scene so public! They are
lovers, beyond doubt, yet they spring upon my hotel this scene of the
most scandalous. It is not the way of France; I do not understand such
goings on."

Madame drew a paper from her bed, and held it up. "Was it for this
that you came?"

"Yes," said Rust, "for that and that only."

"_Un billet doux_" said the patron, playing without design the part of
a bewildered chorus, "Why should not madame have given it to him if
she wished to write that which she was too modest to say?"

"Why did you want it?"

"What more natural," cried the patron, "than that the brave captain
should be eager to read the sweet confession of your love?" Madame
missed not a word which dribbled from the lips of the poor, puzzled
patron, who contributed the comic sauce which titillated her humorous
palate. The patron to her was a sheer joy.

"Why did you want it?" repeated Madame sternly.

"Because," said Rust, "you said that it contained the most important
of secrets."

"What have you to do with secrets which concern the fate of nations at
war?"

"Nations! War!" muttered the patron. "What words are these to find
upon the lips of lovers? By now they should, had they not both been
quite mad, have forgotten war in their mutual embraces."

Rust was silent, considering what he should say. He had not the wit to
invent a plausible story, and to such men there is only one safe
rule--when in doubt, tell the truth. He told the truth.

"I wanted that paper because I am a member of the Secret Service.