tting a breach of duty?"

He looked at me stolidly. Apparently he thought that silence was
wisest.

"You said that that young man who followed us about here was well
known to you," I said. "Who is he?"

"It is not my place to tell you, sir," the man answered, and passed
on.

I stepped into the 'bus and we drove off. As we turned out of the
station I caught a last glimpse of our shadower. He was standing
close to the main exit with his hands behind him, looking up to the
sky as though anxious to discover whether it were still raining. He
looked into our 'bus as it clattered by, and my companion, who caught
sight of him, leaned back in her seat.

"I am sure," she declared firmly, "that that is a detective."

I was equally certain of it, but I only laughed.

"If he is," I said, "it is certainly not you who needs to be anxious.
There can be no question as to whom he is watching. You must remember
that although those mysterious people up at the Place d'Anjou may be
powerful in their way, they would have to be very clever indeed to
protect me absolutely. It is pretty well known over here that I had
threatened to kill Tapilow wherever I met him."

She looked at me for a moment, doubtfully, and then she shook her
head.

"It is not you whom they are watching," she said.

"Who, then?" I asked.

"My uncle and me," she answered.

I looked at her curiously.

"Tell me," I said, "why you think that? Your uncle is a man of
position, and has legitimate business here. Why should he be watched
by detectives?"

She shook her head.

"I suppose it is because we are foreigners," she said, "but ever since
my uncle fetched me from Bordeaux we seem to have been watched by some
one wherever we go."

"You will not suffer much from that sort of thing over here," I
remarked cheerfully. "England is not a police-ridden country like
Germany, or even France."

"I know," she answered, "and yet I have told you before how I feel
about arriving in England. There seems something unfriendly in the
very atmosphere, something which depresses me, which makes me feel as
though there were evil times coming."

I laughed reassuringly.

"You are giving way to fancies," I said. "I am sure that London is
doing its best for you. See, the rain is all over. We have even
continental weather to welcome you. Look at the moon. For London,
too," I added, "the streets seem almost gay."

She leaned out of the window. A full moon was shining in a clou