at the
_Prefecture_. You can see what they thought of the business by my being
here. I wasn't keen to come. I've got my own work to do. But they
want me to identify her; and they've sent three officers with me--not
policemen, you'll notice, because this is an army matter, and before we
make an end of it we'll be in the army zone."

I don't know just what he saw in my eyes; but it seemed to bother him.
He fidgeted a little; as he approached the crucial point, his gaze
evaded mine.

"Now, then, we'll come down to brass tacks, Mr. Bayne," said he. "I
don't know what kind of story the girl told you; but I know it wasn't
the truth or you wouldn't be here. That's sure. She's a German agent;
she's come to get the Germans some papers that they want about as bad as
anything under heaven. There's one man who tried the job already. He
got killed for his pains; but he hid the papers before he died, and she
knows where; and she's on her way to get them and carry the business
through. I don't say she hasn't plenty of courage. Why, she's gone up
against the whole of France; but I guess you're not very anxious to be
mixed up in this underhand, spying sort of matter, eh?"

My hands were doubling themselves with automatic vigor. I
wanted--consumedly--to knock the fellow down. However, I controlled
myself.

"What's your offer?" I asked.

"It's this." He was obviously relieved, positively swelling in his
tolerant, good-humored patronage. "I said once before I was sorry for
you, and that still goes; we won't be hard on you if we have got the
whip-hand, Mr. Bayne. You just stay in your room to-morrow until she's
gone and we're gone, and you needn't be afraid your name will ever
figure in this thing. I've made it all right with my friends in the next
room. They know a pretty girl can fool a man sometimes, and they've got
a soft spot for Americans, like all the Frenchies here. Take it from me,
you'd better draw out quietly, instead of being arrested, tried, shot,
or imprisoned maybe--or being sent home with an unproved charge hanging
over you, and having all your friends fight shy of you as a suspected
pro-German. Isn't that so?"

"You certainly," I agreed, "draw a most uninviting picture. I'll have to
consider this, Mr. Van Blarcom, if you'll give me time?"

"Sure!" with his hearty response. "Take as long as you like to think it
over; I know how you'll decide. You don't belong in a thing like
this anyhow; you never did. It's bound t