re was only one sentence:--

"Monsieur would be well advised to leave Paris to-night."

CHAPTER XI

A WORD OF WARNING

"In the most unlikely places!" Duncombe murmured to himself as he bowed
to the Frenchman, whose name his friend had mentioned. "I am very glad
to meet you again, Monsieur le Baron!" he said, aloud.

They were in the covered garden at the Ritz. Duncombe had accepted the
pressing invitation of an old college friend, whom he had met on the
boulevards to drop in and be introduced to his wife. And the third at
the tea-table was Monsieur Louis, known in society apparently as
Monsieur le Baron de Seurs.

Lady Hadley, his friend's wife, smiled languidly upon them both. She was
a frail pink and white little woman, with the reputation of a beauty to
sustain, wherein lay her life's work.

"You two know one another, of course!" she remarked. "Paris is no larger
than London, after all."

"Sir George and I have met once at least," the Baron said, smiling. "I
am glad that he does me the honor of remembering the occasion."

Duncombe felt himself no match for his companion with the foils. He let
the conversation drift, and waited for his opportunity. Presently some
more guests arrived, and Duncombe drew his host on one side.

"Hadley," he said, "how long have you known the Baron?"

"Met him at Dorset House about two years ago, I think," Hadley answered.
"He was doing a round of country-houses. I'm not sure that he didn't
stay at Sandringham. One of the real old French families, you know, De
Seurs."

Duncombe nodded. There did not seem to be much that he could say. He
mingled with the other guests, and observed his social duties. But he
watched the Baron, and he took care that they left together.

"Are you going my way, Baron?" he asked, as they stepped into the Place
Vendome.

"I was going to the Cercle Anglais," the Baron answered. "Do you
belong?"

"I am up for a month's membership, but I am not elected yet," Duncombe
answered.

"Then you shall come in as my guest," the Baron declared.

"You are exceedingly kind," Duncombe answered. "I wonder whether I might
presume still further upon your good nature and ask you a question."

"The asking," the Baron murmured, "involves nothing."

"You bear, I am told, an honored name, and you are well received in
society. Why do you associate with murderers and thieves in that hell of
a cafe where I saw you first?"

The Baron smiled.

"My frie