it. The train de luxe to Calais is more comfortable than a wet
bench in the Morgue or a French prison."

"Who has decided this?" Duncombe asked. "What Emperor has signed the
decree of my banishment?"

"There have been worse served Emperors," the Vicomte remarked, "than
the, shall we say person, who bids you go!"

"What is my offence?" Duncombe asked.

"I know nothing," the Vicomte answered slowly, pouring himself out some
absinthe.

"Who are my judges, then? What secret authorities have I incensed? I am
an honest man, engaged in an honest mission. Why should I not be allowed
to execute it?"

The Vicomte half closed his eyes. Duncombe was a little angry. The
Vicomte regarded him with reproachful wonder.

"You ask me so many questions," he murmured, "and I tell you that I know
nothing. I have asked you to come here with me because I had just this
to say. I can answer no questions, offer no explanations. I have no
particular liking for you, but I am afflicted with a cursedly sensitive
disposition, and--there are things which I find it hard to watch with
equanimity. There is a train for England at nine o'clock this evening,
Sir George. Take it!"

Duncombe rose from his seat.

"I am very much obliged to you," he said. "I believe that you are giving
me what you believe to be good advice. Whether I can follow it or not is
a different matter."

The Vicomte sighed.

"You Englishmen," he said, "are so obstinate. It is the anxiety
concerning your friends, I suppose, which keeps you here?"

"Yes!"

The Vicomte hesitated. He looked up and down the room, and especially at
the man whom Duncombe had pointed out to him. He had edged nearer and
nearer till he was almost within earshot. The Vicomte's voice, always
low, became a whisper.

"I can tell you this much, at any rate," he said. "Whatever their
present condition may be, it is more likely to be improved than made
worse by your departure. You are a well-meaning person, Monsieur, but
you do nobody any good here, and you risk--more than I dare tell you."

The Vicomte turned away to greet a little party of friends who had just
entered. Duncombe strolled back to the hotel, and found Spencer walking
restlessly up and down the hall waiting for him.

"At last!" he exclaimed, with a sigh of relief. "Come up into my room,
Spencer. We can talk there."

He rang for the lift, and as they ascended he watched the other
anxiously. Spencer was looking pale and disturbed. His