h soil, in Australia--my
children! Not so comfortable as Louis Philippe and Louis Napoleon.
Criminal kings with gold are welcome; criminal subjects without
gold--ah, that is another matter, monsieur. It is just the same.
They may be gentlemen--many are; if they escape to Australia or go
as liberes, they are hunted down. That is English, and they hate the
English--my children."

Gabrielle's voice was directed to M. Barre, but her eyes were on
Shorland.

"Well, Gabrielle, all English are not inhospitable. My friend here, we
must be hospitable to him. The coals of fire, you know, Gabrielle. We
owe him some thing for yesterday. He wishes to speak to you. Be careful,
Gabrielle. No communist justice, Citizen Gabrielle." M. Barre smiled
gaily.

Gabrielle smiled in reply, but it was not a pleasant smile, and she
said: "Treachery, M. Barre--treachery in Noumea? There is no such thing.
It is all fair in love and war. No quarter, no mercy, no hope. All is
fair where all is foul, M. Barre."

M. Barre shrugged his shoulders pleasantly and replied: "If I had my way
your freedom should be promptly curtailed, Gabrielle. You are an active
citizen, but you are dangerous, truly."

"I like you better when you do not have your way. Yet my children do
not hate you, M. Barre. You speak your thought, and they know what to
expect. Your family have little more freedom in France than my children
have here."

M. Barre looked at her keenly for an instant, then, lighting a
cigarette, he said: "So, Gabrielle, so! That is enough. You wish to
speak to M. Shorland--well!" He waved his hand to her and walked away
from them. Gabrielle paused a moment, looking sharply at Blake Shorland,
then she said: "Monsieur will come with me?"

She led the way into another room, the boudoir, sitting-room,
breakfast-room, library, all in one. She parted the curtains at the
window, letting the light fall upon the face of her companion, while
hers remained in the shadow. He knew the trick, and moved out of the
belt of light. He felt that he was dealing with a woman of singular
astuteness, with one whose wickedness was unconventional and intrepid.
To his mind there came on the instant the memory of a Rocky Mountain
lioness that he had seen caged years before; lithe, watchful,
nervously powerful, superior to its surroundings, yet mastered by those
surroundings--the trick of a lock, not a trick of strength. He thought
he saw in Gabrielle a woman who for a personal