lders.

"No, no! Why, in Heaven's name, are you always so frightened?"

"That's all very well. It's jolly dangerous, let me tell you."

"Dangerous!" repeated Vagualame contemptuously. "Absurd! You are
joking! It's dangerous for imbeciles--not for anyone else! Not a soul
would ever suspect that pretty Nichoune is the 'letter-box'--the
intermediary between me and 'Roubaix.'"

"You are going to give me something for Roubaix again?" Nichoune did
not look as if Vagualame's assertion had relieved her fears.

Vagualame evaded a direct answer.

"You have not seen him for a week?"

"Roubaix? No."...

"And Nancy?"

"Nor Nancy."

"Well," said he, after a moment's reflection, "that does not matter in
the least! I can now tell you that Belfort will certainly pass this
way to-morrow morning."...

"Belfort? But he is not due then!"

"Belfort has no fixed time," replied Vagualame sharply. "I have
already told you that Belfort is his own master: his is a divisional."

"A divisional? What exactly is a divisional?" demanded the singer.

"Now you are asking questions," objected Vagualame. His tone was
harsh. "That is not allowed, Nichoune! I have told you so before....
What you do not know you must not try to discover.... I myself do not
know all the ins and outs of the organisation!"

He continued in a less severe tone:

"In any case Belfort passes this way to-morrow between eleven o'clock
and noon.... He does not know me--is not aware of my existence.... It
is through an indirect course that I learned he was coming; also that
he would have something to say to you.... Will you, therefore, hand
him this envelope?"

Vagualame drew from the inside pocket of his short coat a large packet
sealed with red wax.

"Be very careful! This document is important--has been difficult to
obtain--extremely difficult!... On no account must it go astray!...
Tell Belfort that it must be handed over as quickly as possible....
Well?"

Nichoune did not take the packet Vagualame was holding out to her. She
remained seated, her gaze fixed on the tips of her shoes, her hands
buried in her muff.

"Well, what is it? What are you waiting for?" Vagualame repeated.

At this Nichoune blazed out:

"What the matter is? Why, that I have had enough of all this: I don't
want any more of it! Not if I know it! It's too dangerous!"

Vagualame appeared stupefied.

"What, little one?" he asked very gently. "You do not wish to be our
faithful lette