your insolent hands off me," she said. "Do you hear?"

"Oh, yes, I hear." He nodded again toward the door. "Come," he
repeated impatiently; "move on!"

She hesitated; he picked up the olive-wood box, extinguished the lamp,
opened his flash, and motioned with his head, significantly. She
walked ahead of him, face lowered.

Outside he closed and locked the door of the house.

"This way," he said coldly. "If you refuse, I'll pick you up and
carry you under my arm. I think by this time you realise I can do it,
too."

Halfway across the dark pasture she stopped short in her tracks.

"Have I _got_ to carry you?" he demanded sharply.

"Don't have me locked up."

"Why not?"

"I'm not a--a thief."

"Oh! Excuse me. What are you?"

"You know. Don't humiliate me."

"Answer my question! What are you if you're not a lady crook?"

"I'm employed--as _you_ are! Play the game fairly." She halted in the
dark pasture, but he motioned her to go forward.

"If you don't keep on walking," he said, "I'll pick you up as I would
a pet cat and carry you. Now, then, once more, who are you working
for? By whom are you employed, if you're not a plain thief?"

"The--Turkish Embassy."

"What!"

"You knew it," she said in a low voice, walking through the darkness
beside him.

"What is your name?" he insisted.

"Dumont."

"What else?"

"Ilse Dumont."

"That's French."

"It's Alsatian German."

"All right. Now, why did you break into that house?"

"To take what you took."

"To steal these papers for the Turkish Embassy?"

"To _take_ them."

"For the Turkish Ambassador!" he repeated incredulously.

"No; for his military attache."

"What are you, a spy?"

"You knew it well enough. You are one, also. But you have treated me
as though I were a thief. You'll be killed for it, I hope."

"You think I'm a spy?" he asked, astonished.

"What else are you?"

"A spy?" he repeated. "Is _that_ what _you_ are? And you suppose me to
be one, too? That's funny. That's extremely----" He checked himself,
looked around at her. "What are you about?" he demanded. "What's that
in your hand?"

"A cigarette."

They had arrived at the road. He got over the wall with the box; she
vaulted it lightly.

In the darkness he caught the low, steady throbbing of his engine, and
presently distinguished the car standing where he had left it.

"Get in," he said briefly.

"I am not a thief! Are you going to lay that charge against me?"