on
his way homewards, and bade his guide leave him for a little time.
Instantly there was the soft rustle of feminine skirts by his side, and
a woman seated herself on the next chair.

"Monsieur has not been up to the Cafe Montmartre lately!"

Pelham turned his head. It was the young lady from Vienna.

"No!" he answered. "I have not been there since I had the pleasure of
seeing Mademoiselle!"

"Monsieur has discovered all that he wanted to know?"

He nodded a little wearily.

"Yes, I think so!"

She drew her chair quite close to his. The sable of her turban hat
almost brushed his cheek, and the perfume of the violets at her bosom
was strong in his nostrils.

"Monsieur has seen the young lady?"

"I have seen her," he answered.

"Monsieur is indebted to me," she said softly, "for some information.
Let me ask him one question. Is it true, this story in the newspapers,
of the finding of this young man's body? Is Monsieur Guy Poynton really
dead?"

"I know no more than we all read in the newspapers," he answered.

"His sister spoke of him as dead?" she asked.

"I cannot discuss this matter with you, Mademoiselle," he answered.

"Monsieur is ungrateful," she declared with a little grimace. "It is
only that which I desire to know. He was such a _beau garcon_, that
young Englishman. You will tell me that?" she whispered.

He shook his head.

"Mademoiselle will excuse me," he said. "I am going to take a carriage
to my hotel!"

"It is on the way to leave me at my rooms, if you will be so kind," she
suggested, laying her hand upon his arm.

"Mademoiselle will excuse me," he answered, turning away. "Good
afternoon."

Mademoiselle also took a carriage, and drove to a large house at the top
of the Champs Elysees. She was at once admitted, and passed with the air
of one familiar with the place into a small room at the back of the
house, where a man was sitting at a table writing. He looked up as she
entered.

"Well?"

She threw herself into a chair.

"I have been following the Englishman, Pelham, all day," she said in
German. "He has seen Miss Poynton. I have talked with him since at a
cafe, but he would tell me nothing. He has evidently been warned."

The man grumbled as he resumed his writing.

"That fact alone should be enough for us," he remarked. "If there is
anything to conceal we can guess what it is. These amateurs who are in
league with the secret service are the devil! I would as soon resign