ave her, to turn from her forever, if she
disobeyed him. Would he do this, she wondered? Or would he understand
that what she had done, had been for his sake, for the sake of her love
for him?

Presently she realized that the train was slackening its speed, and the
houses which began to appear in increasing numbers outside the car
windows told her that they were approaching a station. She looked at her
railway folder and then consulted her watch. It was Manbenge, the point
at which they left Belgium and entered France. The train drew noisily
into the station, and was at once surrounded by the usual crowd of
passengers, porters, railway and customs officials, and the like. Grace
watched them idly, indifferently. Her only concern was that they should
not wake her husband with their noisy chatter.

Presently she saw a small, white-haired figure approaching the
compartment door. At first she paid no attention to the man, supposing
him to be a belated passenger. Then she was struck with a sudden
familiarity in his appearance. She started back in alarm as she saw that
it was Dufrenne, and that he was making straight for the compartment in
which she sat, his face stern and angry. Behind him she observed two
gendarmes, walking with their characteristic jerky stride.

Dufrenne had been a mystery to her. Until their meeting in Dr.
Hartmann's laboratory that morning, she had never seen him. She had
felt, from his words, that he, too, was of Monsieur Lefevre's staff, a
member of the secret police, but that he was no friend of Richard's or
of hers, she very well knew. She drew back further into the dim corner
of the compartment, hoping that he would not recognize her.

Her hopes, however, were in vain. Dufrenne threw open the door of the
carriage, which had previously been unlocked by the guard, and followed
by his men, entered the compartment. "Here is the fellow," he cried,
angrily, pointing to Duvall. "Arrest him."

Grace sprang forward, and stood between the men and her husband, who
slept on, unconscious of the noise about him. "No--no!" she cried, in a
tense whisper. "Let him alone. You shall not touch him." In her
desperation she drew from the bosom of her dress a small revolver which
she had carried ever since she left Paris. "Keep away, I tell you. You
shall not arrest my husband."

Dufrenne confronted her with an angry gesture. "You fool!" he cried. "Do
you dare to disobey this?" He held before her eyes a silver ring,