name I couldn't bring into the affair. I was George Sandford,
too, not Mr. Dundas. I described my travelling companions, telling all
that happened on the way, and offered big pay if he could find them
quickly--especially the little fellow. He held out hopes of spotting
them to-night, so don't be desperate, my poor girl. The detective chap
seemed really to think he'd not have much difficulty in tracking down
our man; and even if he's parted with the treaty, we can find out what
he's done with it, no doubt. Girard says--"

"Girard!" I caught Ivor up. "Is your detective's name Anatole Girard,
and does he live in Rue du Capucin Blanc?"

"Yes. Do you know him?"

"I know too much of him," I answered bitterly.

"Isn't he clever, after all?"

"Far too clever. I'd rather you had gone to any other detective in
Paris--or to none."

"Why, what's wrong with him?" Ivor began to be distressed.

"Only that he's a personal friend of my worst enemy--the man I spoke of
to you this evening--Count Godensky. I've heard so from Godensky
himself, who mentioned the acquaintance once when Girard had just
succeeded in a case everybody was talking about."

"By Jove, what a beastly coincidence!" exclaimed Ivor, horribly
disappointed at having done exactly the wrong thing, when he had tried
so hard to do the right one. "Yet how could I have dreamed of it?"

"You couldn't," I admitted, hopelessly. "Nothing is your fault. All
that's happened would have happened just the same, no matter what
messenger the Foreign Secretary had sent to me. It's fate. And it's my
punishment."

"Still, even if Godensky and Girard are friends," Ivor tried to console
me, "it isn't likely that the Count has talked to the detective about
you and the affair of the treaty."

"He may have gone to him for help in finding out things he couldn't find
out himself."

"Hardly, I should say, until there'd been time for him to fear failure.
No, the chances are that Girard will have no inner knowledge of the
matter I've put into his hands; and if he's a man of honour, he's bound
to do the best he can for me, as his employer. Have you seen du
Laurier?"

"Yes. At the theatre. Nothing bad had happened to him yet; but that
brute Godensky has made dreadful mischief between us. If only I'd known
that you would be so late, I might have explained everything to him."

"I'm very sorry," said Ivor, so humbly and so sadly that I pitied him
(but not half as much as I pitied myself,