certainly
knew that we had left England--they have been expecting us; they will do
their best to baffle us. Yes, and that means that we run some danger. I
must think of it--I must see the Chief of the Police to-night. It would
be foolish to neglect all reasonable precautions."

Alban looked at him with surprise.

"None of those people will do me an injury," he exclaimed, "and you,
Count, why should you fear them?"

The Count lighted a cigarette very deliberately. "There may be
reasons," he said--and that was all.

Had he told the whole truth, revealed the secrets of his work during the
last three years, Alban would have understood very well what those
reasons were. A shrewder agent of the Government, a more discreet
zealous official of the secret service, did not exist. His very bonhomie
and good-fellowship had hitherto been his surest defence against
discovery. Men spoke of him as the great gambler and a fine sportsman.
The Revolutionaries had been persuaded to look upon him as their friend.
Some day they would learn the truth--and then, God help him. Meanwhile,
the work was well enough. He found it even more amusing than making love
and a vast deal more exciting than big-game hunting.

"Yes," he repeated anon, "There may be reasons, but it is a little too
late to remember them. I am sending over to the Bureau now. If the Chief
is there, he will be able to help me. Of course, you will see or hear
from this girl again. These people would deliver a letter if you locked
yourself up in an iron safe. They will communicate with you in the
morning and we must make up our minds what to do. That is why I want
advice."

"If you take mine," said Alban quietly, "you will permit me to see her
at once. I am the last person in all Warsaw whom Lois Boriskoff will
desire to injure."

"Am I to understand, then--but no, it would be impossible. Forgive me
even thinking of it. I had really imagined for a moment that you might
be her lover."

Alban's face flushed crimson.

"She was my little friend in London--she will be the same in Warsaw,
Count."

Count Sergius bowed as though he readily accepted this simple
explanation and apologized for his own thoughts. A shrewd man of the
world, he did not believe a word of it, however. These two, boy and girl
together, had been daily associates in the slums of London. They had
shared their earnings and their pleasures and passed for those who would
be man and wife presently. This Richar