sentiments, of his conclusions, of his
fears; the word which said all without defining anything, but
permitted everything to be inferred: that word was--_Spying_!

V

THEY ARE NOT AGREED

As one who had the privilege of free entry to the house, Fandor opened
the front door of Juve's flat with the latchkey he possessed as a
special favour, traversed the semi-darkness of the corridor and went
towards his friend's study.

He raised the curtain, opened the door half-way, and caught sight of
Juve at his desk.

"Don't disturb yourself, it is only Fandor!"

The detective was absorbed in the letter he was writing to such a
degree that he had never even heard the journalist enter. At the sound
of his voice Juve started.

"What! You! I thought you had flown yesterday, flown South!"

Fandor smiled a woeful smile.

"I did expect to get away yesterday evening. Juve, in my calling, as
in yours, it is the height of stupidity to make plans. You see! Here I
am still--stuck here!"

Juve nodded assent.

"Well, what then?" he asked.

"Well, what do you think, Juve?"

The detective leaned back in his chair and considered his young
friend.

"Well, my dear Fandor, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

Fandor did not seem much disposed to answer. He had taken off his hat
and overcoat. Now he drew from his pocket a cigarette-case. He
selected one and lighted it carefully, seeming to find a veritable
delight in the first whiffs which he sent towards the ceiling.

"It's a fine day, Juve!"

The detective, more and more astonished, considered the journalist
with the utmost attention.

"What's the matter with you, Fandor?" he said at last.

"Why are you carrying on like this? Why are you not on your
travels?... Without being inquisitive, I suppose you have your head
full of other things than the state of the weather?"

"And you, Juve?"

"How? I?"

"Juve, I ask you why you are so upset?"

The detective folded his arms.

"My word, Fandor, but you are losing your head. You think, then, that
I am thoroughly upset?"

"Juve, you look like a death's-head!"

"Really?"

"Juve, you have not been to bed!"

"I have not been to bed, have I not? How do you know that?"

Fandor approached the writing-table and pointed to the corner, where a
series of half-smoked cigarettes were ranged side by side.

"Ah, I do not doubt, Juve, but that they tidy up your study every
morning; but, here are twenty-five cigaret