ho he is. A friend
of the family."

The Irishman's lips puckered to a low whistle. He said:

"Spying, then, as I thought. He has run us to earth."

And the other nodded. O'Hara took a turn across the room and back.

"In that case," he said, presently--"in that case, then, we must keep
him prisoner here so long as we remain. That's certain." He spun round
sharply with an exclamation. "Look here!" he cried, in a lower tone,
"how about this fellow's friends? It isn't likely he's doing his dirty
work alone. How about his friends, when he doesn't turn up to-night? If
they know he was coming here to spy on us; if they know where the place
is; if they know, in short, what he seems to have known, we're done for.
We'll have to run, get out, disappear. Hang it, man, d'you understand?
We're not safe here for an hour."

Captain Stewart's hands shook a little as he gripped them together
behind him, and a dew of perspiration stood out suddenly upon his
forehead and cheek-bones, but his voice, when he spoke, was well under
control.

"It's an odd thing," said he--"another miracle, if you like--but I
believe we are safe--reasonably safe. I--have reason to think that this
fellow learned about La Lierre only last evening from some one who left
Paris to-day to be gone a long time. And I also have reason to believe
that the fellow has not seen the one friend who is in his confidence,
since he obtained his information. By chance I met the friend, the other
man, in the street this afternoon. I asked after this fellow whom we
have here, and the friend said he hadn't seen him for twenty-four
hours--was going to see him to-night."

"By the Lord!" cried the Irishman, with a great laugh of relief. "What
luck! What monumental luck! If all that's true, we're safe. Why, man,
we're as safe as a fox in his hole. The lad's friends won't have the
ghost of an idea of where he's gone to.... Wait, though! Stop a bit! He
won't have left written word behind him, eh? He won't have done
that--for safety?"

"I think not," said Captain Stewart, but he breathed hard, for he knew
well enough that there lay the gravest danger. "I think not," he said
again.

He made a rather surprisingly accurate guess at the truth--that Ste.
Marie had started out upon impulse, without intending more than a
general reconnaissance, and therefore without leaving any word behind
him. Still, the shadow of danger uplifted itself before the man and he
was afraid. A sudden gust