nised voice. "What can I
do? I'm no traitor!... But I'd give you a pistol if I had one----" She
checked herself as the girl who had been reading an evening newspaper
on a sofa, and to whom Neeland had been talking when Ilse Dumont
entered, came sauntering into the room.

The eyes of both women met; both turned a trifle paler. Then Ilse
Dumont walked slowly up to the other:

"I overheard your warning," she said with a deadly stare.

"Really?"

Ilse stretched out her bare arm, palm upward, and closed the fingers
tightly:

"I hold your life in my hand. I have only to speak. Do you
understand?"

"No."

"You are lying. You _do_ understand. You take double wages; but it is
not France you betray! Nor Russia!"

"Are you insane?"

"Almost. _Where do you carry them?_"

"What?"

"Answer quickly. _Where?_ I tell you, I'll expose you in another
moment if you don't answer me! Speak quickly!"

The other woman had turned a ghastly white; for a second or two she
remained dumb, then, dry-lipped:

"Above--the knee," she stammered; but there was scarcely a sound from
the blanched lips that formed the words.

"Pistols?"

"Yes."

"Loaded? Both of them?"

"Yes."

"Clips?"

"No."

"Unstrap them!"

The woman turned, bent almost double, twisting her supple body
entirely around; but Ilse Dumont was at her side like a flash and
caught her wrist as she withdrew her hand from the hem of her fluffy
skirt.

"Now--_take_ your life!" said Ilse Dumont between her teeth. "There's
the door! Go out!"--following her with blazing eyes--"Stop! Stand
where you are until I come!"

Then she came quickly to where Neeland stood, astonished; and thrust
two automatic pistols into his hands.

"Get Sengoun," she whispered. "Don't go _down_-stairs, for God's sake.
Get to the roof, if you can. Try--oh, try, try, Neeland, my friend!"
Her voice trembled; she looked into his eyes--gave him, in that swift
regard, all that a woman withholds until the right man asks.

Her lips quivered; she turned sharply on her heel, went to the outer
hallway, where the other woman stood motionless.

"What am I to do with _you_?" demanded Ilse Dumont. "Do you think you
are going out of here to summon the police? Mount those stairs!"

The woman dropped her hand on the banisters, heavily, set foot on the
first stair, then slowly mounted as though her little feet in their
dainty evening slippers were weighted with ball and chain.

Ilse Dumont followed h