ands on her."

"Your own people will do that. I heard you order that man to
follow her."

"Probably; still I would rather have the information from you. It
would satisfy me of your good-will. I need not then proceed to
extremities--"

"I certainly shall not give it you," said the General, hotly.
"Anything I know about or have heard from the Contessa Castagneto
is sacred; besides, I still believe in her--thoroughly. Nothing
you have said can shake me."

"Then I must ask you to accompany me to the Prefecture. You will
come, I trust, on my invitation." The Chief spoke quietly, but
with considerable dignity, and he laid a slight stress upon the
last word.

"Meaning that if I do not, you will have resort to something
stronger?"

"That will be quite unnecessary, I am sure,--at least I hope so.
Still--"

"I will go where you like, only I will tell you nothing more, not
a single word; and before I start, I must let my friends at the
Embassy know where to find me."

"Oh, with all my heart," said the little detective, shrugging his
shoulders. "We will call there on our way, and you can tell the
porter. They will know where to find us."

CHAPTER XVII

Sir Charles Collingham and his escort, M. Flocon, entered a cab
together and were driven first to the Faubourg St. Honore. The
General tried hard to maintain his nonchalance, but he was yet a
little crestfallen at the turn things had taken, and M. Flocon,
who, on the other hand, was elated and triumphant, saw it. But no
words passed between them until they arrived at the portals of the
British Embassy, and the General handed out his card to the
magnificent porter who received them.

"Kindly let Colonel Papillon have that without delay." The General
had written a few words: "I have got into fresh trouble. Come on
to me at the Police Prefecture if you can spare the time."

"The Colonel is now in the Chancery: will not monsieur wait?"
asked the porter, with superb civility.

But the detective would not suffer this, and interposed, answering
abruptly for Sir Charles:

"No. It is impossible. We are going to the Quai l'Horloge. It is
an urgent matter."

The porter knew what the Quai l'Horloge meant, and he guessed
intuitively who was speaking. Every Frenchman can recognize a
police officer, and has, as a rule, no great opinion of him.

"Very well!" now said the porter, curtly, as he banged the
wicket-gate on the retreating cab, and he did not hurry himself
in gi