though not so easily substantiated."

"Except by manufactured evidence and forged documents," snapped Sir Hugh.
"If Paul is the victim of some political party and is to be made a
scapegoat, then Heaven help him, poor fellow. They will never allow him
to prove his innocence, unless----"

"Unless what?"

"Unless I come forward," he said very slowly, staring straight before
him. "Unless I come forward and tell the truth of my dealings with you.
The charges against Paul are false. I know it now. What have you to say?"
he added in a low, hard voice.

"A great deal of good that would do!" laughed Weirmarsh, selecting a
cigarette from his gold case and lighting it, regarding his host with
those narrow-set, sinister eyes of his. "It would only implicate Le
Pontois further. They would say, and with truth, that you knew of the
whole conspiracy and had profited by it."

"I should tell them what I know concerning you. Indeed, I wrote out a
full statement while I was staying with Paul. And I have it ready to hand
for the authorities."

"You can do so, of course, if you choose," was the careless reply. "It
really doesn't matter to me what statement you make. You have always
preserved silence up to the present, therefore I should believe that in
this case silence was still golden."

"And you suggest that I stand calmly by and see Le Pontois sentenced to a
long term of imprisonment for a crime which he has not committed, eh?"

"I don't suggest anything, my dear Sir Hugh," was the man's reply; "I
leave it all to your good judgment."

Since they had met in secret Weirmarsh had made a flying visit to
Brussels, where he had conferred with two friends of his. Upon their
suggestion he was now acting.

If Paul Le Pontois were secretly denounced and afterwards found innocent,
then it would only mystify the French police; the policy pursued towards
the Surete, as well as towards Sir Hugh, was a clever move on Weirmarsh's
part.

"What am I to say to my poor girl when she arrives here in tears
to-morrow?" demanded the fine old British officer hoarsely.

"You know that best yourself," was Weirmarsh's brusque reply.

"To you I owe all my recent troubles," the elder man declared.
"Because--because," he added bitterly, "you bought me up body and soul."

"A mere business arrangement, wasn't it, Sir Hugh?" remarked his visitor.
"Of course, I'm very sorry if any great trouble has fallen upon you on my
account. I hope, for instance, you