air next to them, and
was evidently prepared to listen to all that was said. His clothes and
bearing, and quiet, unobtrusive manners, all seemed to suggest
truthfully enough his possible identity--an English detective from an
advertised office. Duncombe smiled as he realized the almost pitiful
inadequacy of such methods.

"Come, Andrew," he said, turning to his friend, "you have a small
grievance against me, and you think you have a great one."

"A small grievance!" Andrew murmured softly. "Thank you, Duncombe."

"Go on, then. State it!" Duncombe declared. "Let me hear what is in your
mind."

Andrew raised his brows slowly. Twice he seemed to speak, but at the
last moment remained silent. He was obviously struggling to control
himself.

"There is this in my mind against you, Duncombe," he said finally. "I
sent for you as a friend. You accepted a charge from me--as my friend.
And you betrayed me."

Duncombe shook his head.

"Listen, Andrew," he said. "I want to remind you again of what I said
just now. I warned you! No, don't interrupt. It may have sounded like
nonsense to you. I meant every word I said. I honestly tried to make you
understand. I came here; I risked many things. I failed! I returned to
England. Up till then you had nothing to complain of. Then, Heaven knows
why, but the very girl whom I had gone to Paris to seek came to Runton
in the guise at least of an adventuress."

Andrew lifted his head quickly.

"You admit it at last, then?" he cried.

"Yes, I admit it now," Duncombe agreed.

"You lied to me there--to me who had no eyes, who trusted you. What was
that but betrayal, rank, inexcusable betrayal!"

"Listen, Andrew," Duncombe said. "She told me that she was not Phyllis
Poynton. It was enough for me. I disregarded my convictions. Her word
was my law. She said that she was not Phyllis Poynton, and to me she
never was Phyllis Poynton. She was afraid of you, and I helped her to
avoid you. I admit it! It is the extent of my failing in our friendship,
and you were warned."

"And now?"

"I am here now," Duncombe said a little sadly, "because I love her, and
because I cannot keep away. But she will not see me, and I am no nearer
solving the mystery than ever. On the contrary, I know that I am in
danger here. It is possible that I may be driven to leave Paris
to-night."

"You know where she is now?"

"Yes."

Andrew leaned suddenly over, and his grip was on Duncombe's shoulder
like a vise