ing--improper."

Dawson stared at her in wonder. Her big eyes, shining with the lovely
innocence of childhood, met his without a flicker. "Bless my immortal
soul," he muttered, "she is getting at me again." Then aloud, and
gravely--"My assistants are always expected to conduct themselves with
the strictest propriety."

Madame laughed softly. "I have known many men in my time, Mr. Dawson,
but I have never enjoyed any man so much as I do you."

"I appear to have rather a roaming commission," Madame Gilbert went
on, after a thoughtful pause. "Can you not give me any guidance?"

"Not at present. I am testing an idea, that is all. You must be guided
by your own wit and judgment, in which I have the utmost confidence.
Don't waste your time or fascinations on the wrong people. Find out if
among the French or Belgian flying officers, who from time to time
visit London, there are any whose connections and movements will repay
close watching here and at the Front. Sift them out. When you get upon
a track which seems promising, follow it up, and do not be--what shall
I say?--do not be too squeamish. Money is no object. Behind us is the
whole British Treasury, and you can have whatever you want. Will you
take on the contract, madame?"

"I will do my best," she replied soberly, "and I will not be--too
squeamish. I can look after myself, my friend."

In another room of the great building upon the Thames Embankment sat
Deputy Chief Inspector Henri Froissart, a French detective officer who
had been "lent" to the English service. Opposite him was sitting a
young handsome man in the uniform of a captain in the British Army.
Froissart was frowning and speaking in savage disrespect of Dawson,
his immediate chief. "This English Dawson, with whom it is my
misfortune to work, is of all men the most impossible. He is clever,
as the Devil, but secretive--my faith! He tells me nothing. He lives
in disguise of body and mind. There are twenty men in his face, his
figure, and his dress. He comes to me as a police officer, a doctor, a
soldier, a priest, even as an old hag who cleans the stairs. He
deceives me continually, and laughs, laughs. He is a reproach and an
insult. I have it in my mind to score off him; what do you say, mon
ami?"

Froissart spoke in French, and the English officer replied in the same
language. "With pleasure, in the way of business. I have been placed
at your orders, not at old man Dawson's. Go ahead, what is the gam