"We understand, sir," said they both in a breath, and Brisson added,
with venom in his voice, "They were swine! I rejoice that they did not
get their telegram!"

Lepine jumped as though a pin had been driven into him.

"Their telegram? What do you mean?" he cried.

"About an hour after they were gone," Brisson hastened to explain, "or
perhaps two hours--I do not know--a messenger appeared with a telegram
addressed to a grotesque name--Zhones, Smeet--I do not remember--in
care of the Hotel du Nord. I concluded it was for one of them, and told
the messenger it was too late, that the man had departed--to Frejus, to
Nice--I did not know whither. So he took the telegram back again."

Lepine's eyes were gleaming as he glanced at Crochard.

"I am glad that you have mentioned this detail, M. Brisson," he said. "I
thank you--and you also, Madame!" and with that, he and his companions
bade the worthy couple adieu.

Once in the street, Crochard paused.

"I will leave you now, M. Lepine," he said. "You have your work to
do--but you do not need me. Should I have anything further to
communicate, you will hear from me."

"And if we wish to find you?"

"For the present, I am staying with my friend on the Quai de Cronstadt."

"Very good," said Lepine. "Good night," and in a moment he and Pigot
were lost in the darkness.

The rain had ceased and a chill wind had arisen, but Crochard did not
seem to feel it, as he walked slowly toward the quays, his head bent in
thought. An ironical smile curved his lips, as he pictured Lepine off
upon the scent first to the Prefecture, then to the post-office. He
would follow it well, of course; he would run it to the end. He would
discover, no doubt, the identity of the two travellers; that would not
be difficult. Crochard himself had pointed out the way.

But what then? Even if they were found to be men high in the German
service, that was of small importance. It _proved_ nothing. They were at
liberty to visit Toulon, if they wished to do so; and, after all, their
arrival at the quay five minutes before dawn might have been an
accident; they _might_ have lingered for a last look at _La Liberte_
without any suspicion of what was about to occur. Such a coincidence, if
not probable, was, at least, conceivable; and such, of course, would be
their explanation, if an explanation was ever asked for. There was no
way to disprove it.

As to the yacht on which they had embarked--well, that, to