"I regret that I am unable to speak more plainly," he said. "I warned you
to leave France, and I was glad that you and Sir Hugh heeded my warning.
Otherwise--well, perhaps an unpleasant incident would have resulted."

"You always speak in enigmas nowadays," said the girl, again standing
near the fireplace, dainty in her dark skirt and cream silk jumper. "Why
did you send me that extraordinary note?"

"In your own interests," was his vague reply. "I became aware
that your further presence in the house of Monsieur Le Pontois
was--well--undesirable--that's all."

"I really think you entertain some antagonism against Paul," she
declared, "yet he's such a good fellow."

The novelist's eyes sparkled through his pince-nez as he replied: "He's
very good-looking, I admit, and, no doubt, a perfect cavalier."

"You suspect me of flirtations with him, of course," she pouted. "Well,
you're not the first man who has chaffed me about that."

"No, no," he laughed. "I'm in no way jealous, I assure you. I merely
told you that your departure from the chateau would be for the best."

He did not tell her that within an hour of their leaving French territory
an official telegram had been received from Paris by the local
commissaire of police with orders to detain them both, nor that just
before dark an insignificant-looking man in black had called at the
chateau and been informed by Jean that the English general and his
stepdaughter had already departed.

The whole of that night the wires between the sous-prefecture at Briey
and Paris had been at work, and many curious official messages had been
exchanged. Truly, the pair had had a providential escape.

Sir Hugh was, of course, in entire ignorance of the dastardly action
taken by the Pimlico doctor.

Without duly counting the cost, he had declared at his last interview
with Weirmarsh that their criminal partnership was now at an end. And the
doctor had taken him at his word.

Had not the doctor in London told his assistant, Heureux, that Sir Hugh's
sphere of usefulness was at an end, and that, in all probability, a
_contretemps_ would occur--one which would in future save to "the
syndicate" the sum of five thousand pounds per annum?

Truth to tell, Bezard, director of the Surete, had telegraphed orders for
the arrest of Sir Hugh and his daughter. But, thanks to the shrewdness of
Fetherston, who had lingered in the vicinity to afford them protection if
necessary, they had succee