usly. The moon had come out, the stars
too; I would take a stroll and mature my plans.

Lighting a cigarette, I lounged into the street and addressed myself
forthwith to an unhurried tour of Bleau. I was gone perhaps an hour, not
a very lengthy interval, but one in which a variety of things can occur,
as I was to learn. My walk led me outside the village, down a water path
between trees, and even to the famous mill, which was charming. Had I
been of the fraternity of artists, as I had claimed, I should have
asked no better fate than to come there with canvas and brushes and
immortalize the quiet beauty of the scene.

A rustic bridge invited me, and I stood and smoked upon it, listening
to the ripple of the half-golden, half-shadowy water, watching the
revolutions of the green old wheel. I had laid out my plan of action. On
my return to the inn I would insist on an interview with Miss Falconer,
and would tell her that either she must return with me to Paris or that
the police of Bleau--I supposed it had police--must take a hand.

My metamorphosis into a hero of adventure, racing about the country,
visiting places I had never heard of, coolly assuming the control
of international spy plots, brutally determining to kidnap women if
necessary, was astounding to say the least. That dinner in the St. Ives
restaurant rose before me, and I heard again Dunny's charge that I
was growing stodgy with advancing years. Suppose he should see me
now, involved in these insane developments? He might call me various
unflattering things, but not stodgy--not with truth. I chuckled
half-heartedly, my last chuckle, by the by, for a long time. Unknown to
me and unsuspected, the darker, more deadly side of the adventure was
steadily drawing near.

When I entered the courtyard of the Three Kings, the door of the garage
stood open, and the first object my eyes met within it was the pursuing
gray car. I stared at the thing, transfixed. In the march of events I
had forgotten it. I was still gaping at it when madame came hurrying
forth.

"I have been watching," she informed me, "for monsieur's return. Friends
of his arrived here soon after he left the house."

"The deuce they did!" I thought, dumb-founded. I judged prudence
advisable.

"They have names, these friends?" I inquired warily.

"Without doubt, Monsieur," she agreed, "but they did not offer them; and
who am I to ask questions of the officers of France? They are bound on a
mission,