rl's face wore a startled expression, her
gaze was direct to the woman at Lanyard's side; then it shifted
enquiringly to him. With a look Lanyard warned her to compose herself,
then lifted an eyebrow and glanced meaningly toward the doors. The
least of nods answered him before Le Brun swung Athenais toward the
middle of the floor and other couples intervened.

Liane Delorme stirred abruptly.

"The assassin?" she demanded--"is there any clue?"

"I believe he is known by description, but missing."

"But you, my friend--what do you know?"

"As much as anybody, I fancy--except the author of the murder."

"Tell me."

Quietly, briefly, Lanyard told her of seeing the Comte de Lorgnes at
dinner in Lyons; of the uneasiness he manifested, and the cumulative
feeling of frustration and failure he so plainly betrayed as the last
hours of his life wore on; of the Apaches who watched de Lorgnes in the
cafe and the fact that one of them had contrived to secure a berth in
the same carriage with his victim; of seeing the presumptive murderer
slinking away from the train at Laroche; and of the discovery of the
body, on the arrival of the rapide at the Gare de Lyon.

Absorbed, with eyes abstracted and intent, and a mouth whose essential
selfishness and cruelty was unconsciously stressed by the compression
of her lips: the woman heard him as he might have been a disembodied
voice. Now and again, however, she nodded intently and, when he
finished, had a pertinent question ready.

"You say a description of this assassin exists?"

"Have I not communicated it to you?"

"But to the police--?"

"Is it likely?" The woman gave him a blank stare.

"Pardon, mademoiselle: but is it likely that the late Andre Duchemin
would have more to do with the police than he could avoid?"

"You would see a cold-blooded crime go unavenged--?"

"Rather than dedicate the remainder of my days to seeing the world
through prison bars? I should say yes!--seeing that this assassination
does not concern me, and I am guiltless of the crime with which I
myself am charged. But you who were a friend to de Lorgnes know the
facts, and nothing hinders your communicating them to the
Prefecture.... Though I will confess it would be gracious of you to
keep my name out of the affair."

But Lanyard was not dicing with Chance when he made this suggestion: he
knew very well Liane Delorme would not go to the police.

"That for the Prefecture!" She clicked a finger-na