ely accept your assurance that Mrs. Pargeter is not in hiding
here. I am aware, Mr. Vanderlyn, that Americans do not lie,"--an ironic
smile wavered for a moment over his large mouth.

Vanderlyn's face remained impassive. "You, on your side, must forgive my
heat," he said, quietly. Then he suddenly determined to play for a high
stake. "May I ask you to satisfy my curiosity on one point? What made
you first suspect such a thing? What led you to--to suppose----"

"----That you knew where this lady was; that she might--say, after a
little misunderstanding with her husband--have taken refuge with you?
Well, yes, Mr. Vanderlyn, I admit that you have a right to ask me this,
and it was because I feared you might lack the exquisite courtesy you
have shown me, that I brought with me to-night a document which
contains, in what I trust you will consider a discreet form, an answer
to your delicate question."

Vanderlyn's visitor again sat down; he laid open on his knee the leather
portfolio, and out of it he took a large sheet of foolscap, which,
unfolding, he handed to Laurence Vanderlyn.

"This, Monsieur, is your _dossier_. If you can prove to me that it is
incorrect in any particular, I will see that the error is rectified. We
naturally take special care in compiling the _dossiers_ of foreign
diplomatists, for experience has shown that these often become of great
value, even after the gentlemen in question have left Paris for some
other capital."

Vanderlyn reddened. He glanced over the odd-looking document with eager,
curious eyes. A few words here and there were printed, but the rest of
the _dossier_ was written in the round copying character which must be
mastered by every French Government clerk hoping for promotion.

First came the American diplomatist's Christian name and surname, his
place of birth, his probable age--right within two years,--a short
epitome of his diplomatic career, a guess at his income, this item
considerably under the right figure, and evidently based on his quiet
way of living.

Then, under a printed heading "General Remarks," were written a few
phrases in a handwriting very different from the rest--that is, in the
small clear caligraphy of an educated Frenchman. Staring down at these,
Vanderlyn felt shaken with anger and disgust, for these "General
Remarks" concerned that part of his private life which every man
believes to be hidden from his fellows:--

"Peu d'intimites d'hommes. Pas de femm