the upraised eyebrows of his friend, was shocked.

"You mean?" he exclaimed.

Spencer nodded.

"_L'affaire Poynton_" he said gently. "A very subtle dose of poison
indeed, my friend. I shall not die, but I have had my little lesson.
Here the individual has little chance. We fight against forces that are
too many for us. I told you so at the start."

"Yet I," Duncombe answered, "have not suffered."

"My friend," Spencer answered, "it is because I am the more dangerous."

"You have discovered something?" Duncombe exclaimed.

"I came near discovering a great deal," Spencer answered. "Perhaps it
would have been better for my system if I had discovered a little less.
As it is I have finished with _l'affaire Poynton_ for the present. You
see how very nearly _l'affaire Poynton_ finished me."

"It is not like you," Duncombe said thoughtfully, "to give anything up."

"We come face to face sometimes with unique experiences, which destroy
precedent," Spencer answered. "This is one of them."

"And what," Duncombe asked, "do you advise me to do?"

"Always the same advice," Spencer answered. "Leave Paris to-day. Go
straight back to Norfolk, read the newspapers, and await events."

"Well, I think that I shall do so," Duncombe answered slowly. "I have
found out where Miss Poynton is, but she will not see me. I have made an
enemy of my dearest friend, and I have, at any rate, interrupted your
career and endangered your life. Yes, I will go back home."

"You may yet save your friend some--inconvenience," Spencer suggested.
"Try to persuade him to go back with you."

"He will not listen to me," Duncombe answered. "He has brought an
English detective with him, and he is as obstinate as a mule. For myself
I leave at nine o'clock."

"You are well advised, exceedingly well advised," Spencer said. "Mind I
do not take the responsibility of sending you away without serious
reasons. I honestly believe that Miss Poynton is safe, whatever may have
happened to her brother, and I believe that you will serve her best by
your temporary absence."

Duncombe stood for a moment wrapped in thought. The last few months had
aged him strangely. The strenuous days and nights of anxious thought had
left their mark in deep lines upon his face. He looked out of the
window of Spencer's room, and his eyes saw little of the busy street
below. He was alone once more with this strange, terrified girl upon the
hillside, with the wind in their faces, an