.
What with them and the regular secret service, Paris is an impossible
city for us. Where we would watch we are watched ourselves. The streets
and cafes bristle with spies! I do not wonder that you find success so
difficult, Mademoiselle!"

"I haven't done so badly!" she protested.

"No, for you have not been set easy tasks. Can you tell me, though,
where that young Englishman disappeared to when he left the Cafe
Montmartre before your very eyes? Can you tell me whether the secret
service got hold of his story, how much the French Government believed
of it, whether they have communicated with the English Government, and
how much they know? Beyond these things, it is not your province to see,
or mine, Mademoiselle, and it is not for us to guess at or inquire into
the meaning of things. Tell me, is it worth while to have this man
Pelham put out of the way for a time?"

She shook her head.

"I do not think so," she answered. "He is quite stupid. The other, Sir
George Duncombe, he was different. If he had stayed in Paris he would
have been worth watching."

A bell rang. The man rose.

"The chief!" he said. "Be at the cafe to-night."

Mademoiselle went away thoughtfully.

"It is over this affair," she said to herself. "Carl knows everything!"

CHAPTER XIII

A NEWSPAPER SENSATION

Spencer, whose recovery during the last few days had been as rapid as
the first development of his indisposition, had just changed for dinner,
and was lighting a _cigarette d'appertit_ when, without waiting to be
announced, the Vicomte de Bergillac entered the room. Spencer, with
lightning-like intuition, knew that his time was come.

"Off with your coat, man, and get your code books out. I am going to
give you the most sensational story which has ever appeared in your
paper!" he exclaimed. "Only, remember this! It must appear to-morrow
morning. I am arranging for the French papers to have it. Yours shall be
the only English journal. Glance through these sheets. They contain the
story of _l'affaire Poynton_!"

Spencer was master of the gist of the thing in a very few moments. His
eyes were bright with excitement.

"Who guarantees this?" he asked quickly.

"My uncle has signed it," Henri de Bergillac answered, "and at the
bottom of the page there you will see a still more distinguished
signature. You understand _l'affaire Poynton_ now? It is very simple.
That English boy actually witnessed a meeting between the Czar and t