Bartot knew--"

"Bartot did know," I interrupted.

Louis' face was a study.

"Bartot came in while I was talking to mademoiselle," I said.

"There was a scene?" Louis inquired breathlessly. "Bartot threatened
monsieur? Perhaps there were blows?"

"Nothing of the sort," I answered. "Bartot blustered a little and
mademoiselle wrung her hands, but they played their parts badly.
Between you and me, Louis, I have a sort of an idea that Bartot's
coming was not altogether accidental."

"It was a trap," Louis murmured softly. "But why?"

I shook my head.

"Louis," I said, "I am the wrong sort of man to be even a temporary
dweller in this nest of intrigue. I do not understand it at all. I do
not understand any of you. I only know that I owe you and those other
gentlemen a very considerable debt, and I have been solemnly warned
against you by the young lady whom I met at the Cafe de Paris. I have
been assured that association with you is the first step toward my
undoing. Monsieur Bartot, for all his bluster, seemed very anxious to
be friendly."

"It was the girl!" Louis exclaimed. "Bartot was too big a fool to
understand!"

I sighed.

"I fear that I am in the same position as Monsieur Bartot," I said. "I
do not understand!"

There was a warning cry. I had only just time to swing myself on to
the slowly moving train. Louis ran for a moment by the side.

"Those people are harmless," he said. "They merely wished, if they
could, to make use of you. Mademoiselle has tied other fools to her
chariot wheels before now, that Bartot may grow fat. But, monsieur!"

I leaned over to catch his words.

"If Monsieur or Mademoiselle Delora should address you," he said, "you
need have no fear. They are not of the same order as Bartot and
Susette."

"I will remember," I answered, waving my farewells.

I regained my compartment, which I was annoyed to find had filled up
till mine was the only vacant seat. I had not had time to buy any
papers or magazines, but, after all, I had enough to interest me in my
thoughts. Of Tapilow I scarcely thought at all. He and I had met, and
I had kept my oath. So far as I was concerned, that was the end. I had
not even any fears for my own safety as regards this matter. My
interview with Decresson and his friend had had a curiously convincing
effect upon me. I felt that I had been tried for my crime, and
acquitted, in the most orthodox fashion. For me the curtain had fallen
upon that tragedy.