pid accent hinting at an agitation which her voice
bore out when she answered his wondering: "Mademoiselle?" "J'y suis,
petit Monsieur Paul."

"Is anything the matter?"

"No ... no: there is nothing the matter."

"I'm afraid I have tired you out to-night."

"I do not deny I am a little weary."

"Forgive me."

"There is nothing to forgive, not yet, petit Monsieur Paul." A trace of
hard humour crept into her tone: "It is all in the night's work, as the
saying should be in Paris."

"Three favours more; then I will do you one in return."

"Ask..."

"Be so kind as to make a light and find me a pocket flash-lamp if you
have one."

"I can do the latter without the former. It is better that we show no
light; one stray gleam through the curtains would tell too much. Wait."

A noise of light footsteps muffled by a rug, high heels tapping on
uncovered floor, the scrape of a drawer pulled out: and she returned to
give him a little nickelled electric torch.

"And then--?"

"Liane's address, if you know it."

The girl named a number on an avenue not far distant. Lanyard remarked
this.

"Yes; you can walk there in less than five minutes. And finally?"

"Show me the way out." Again she made no response. He pursued in some
constraint: "Thus you will enable me to make you my only inadequate
return--leave you to your rest."

Yet another space of silence; then a gusty little laugh. "That is a
great favour, truly, petit Monsieur Paul! So give me your hand once
more." But she no longer clung to it as before; the clasp of her
fingers was light, cool, impersonal to the point of indifference.
Vexed, resentful of her resentment, Lanyard suffered her guidance
through the darkness of another room, a short corridor, and then a
third room, where she left him for a moment.

He heard again the clash of curtain rings. The dim violet rectangle of
a window appeared in the darkness, the figure of the woman in vague
silhouette against it. A sash was lifted noiselessly, rain-sweet air
breathed into the apartment. Athenais returned to his side, pressed
into his palm a key.

"That window opens on a court. The drop from the sill is no more than
four feet. In the wall immediately opposite you will find a door. This
key opens it. Lock the door behind you, and at your first opportunity
throw away the key: I have several copies. You will find yourself in a
corridor leading to the entrance of the apartment house in the rear of
this, facin