"If I could believe that!" Bartot muttered, with a look of coming friendship in his eyes.
"Mademoiselle will assure you," I continued.
"Then what are you doing here?" he asked.
I raised my eyebrows.
"I was not aware," I said, "that this was a private restaurant."
"But these are private rooms," he answered. "Still, if it was a mistake—I trust mademoiselle always."
She held out her hands to him with a theatrical gesture.
"Henri," she cried, "you could not doubt me! It is impossible!"
"You are right," he answered quickly. "I was too hasty."
I smiled upon them both.
"Mademoiselle," I said, "I am sorry that our pleasant little conversation has been interrupted. Believe me, though, to be always your devoted slave."
I opened the door. Monsieur Bartot turned towards me. I am convinced that he was about to offer me his hand and to call for that bottle of wine. I felt, however, that flight was safest. I went out and closed the door.
"The bill, monsieur?" a waiter called after me as I descended the stairs.
I gave him five francs for a pour boire.
"Monsieur there will pay," I told him, pointing towards the room.
CHAPTER VIII
LOUIS INSISTS
I arrived at the Ritz to find Louis walking impatiently up and down the stone-flagged pavement outside the entrance. He came up to me eagerly as I approached.
"I have been waiting for you for more than an hour!" he exclaimed.
I looked at him in some surprise. I had not yet grown accustomed to hear him speak in such a tone.
"Did I say that I was coming straight back?" I asked.
"Of course not," he answered. "After you left, though, I had some trouble with Monsieur Grisson. There is a chance that we may have to move Tapilow to a hospital, and he is just one of those fools who talk. Monsieur Grisson insists upon it that you leave Paris by the four o'clock train this afternoon."
I shook my head.
"I could not catch it," I declared. "It is half-past three now."
"On the other hand, you can and you must," Louis answered. "I took the liberty of telephoning in your name and ordering the valet to pack your clothes. Your luggage is in the hall there, and that automobile is waiting to take you to the Gare du Nord."
I opened my mouth to protest, but Louis' manner underwent a further change.
"Captain Rotherby," he said, "it is I and my friends who save you, perhaps, from a considerable inconvenience. Forgive me if I remind you of this, but it is not fitting that you should argue with us on this matter."
Louis was right. For more reasons than he knew of, it was well that I should leave Paris.
"Are you coming with me?" I asked.
"I am crossing by the night boat," Louis answered. "I have not quite finished the work for which I came over. I have some things to buy."
I smiled.
"Upon my word," I said, "I had forgotten your profession."
I went back into the hotel and paid my bill. Louis drove with me to the station and saw to the registration of my luggage. Afterwards he found my reserved seat, in which I arranged my rug and books. Then I turned and walked down the corridor with him.
"I trust," he said, "that monsieur will have a pleasant journey and pleasant companions."
I glanced into the coupé which we were just passing. It seemed curious that even as the wish left his lips I should find myself looking into the dark eyes of the girl whose face had been so often in my thoughts during the last few days! Opposite her was the gray-bearded man Delora, already apparently immersed in a novel. Every seat in the compartment was laden with their small belongings—dressing-bags, pillows, a large jewel-case, books, papers, flowers, and a box of chocolates. I turned to Louis.
"Again," I remarked, "we meet friends. What a small place the world is!"
We stepped down on to the platform. Louis, for some reason, seemed slightly nervous. He glanced up at the clock and watched the few late arrivals with an interest which was almost intense.
"Monsieur," he said, a little abruptly, "there is a question which I should like to ask you before you leave."
"There are a good many I should like to ask you, Louis," I answered, "but they will keep. Go ahead."
"I should like to know," Louis said, "where you spent the hour which passed between your leaving the Café Normandy and arriving at the Ritz."
I hesitated for a moment. After all, I had no reason to keep my movements secret. It was better, indeed, to avoid complications so far as possible.
"You shall know if you like, Louis," I said. "I kept my appointment with the young lady of the turquoises."
Louis' pale face seemed suddenly strained.
"It was my fault!" he muttered. "I should not have left you! You do not understand how those affairs are here in Paris! If Bartot knew—"
"Bartot did know," I interrupted.
Louis' face was a study.
"Bartot came in while I was talking to mademoiselle," I said.
"There was a scene?" Louis inquired breathlessly. "Bartot threatened monsieur? Perhaps there were blows?"
"Nothing of the sort," I answered. "Bartot blustered a little and mademoiselle wrung her hands, but they played their parts badly. Between you and me, Louis, I have a sort of an idea that Bartot's coming was not altogether accidental."
"It was a trap," Louis murmured softly. "But why?"
I shook my head.
"Louis," I said, "I am the wrong sort of man to be even a temporary dweller in this nest of intrigue. I do not understand it at all. I do not understand any of you. I only know that I owe you and those other gentlemen a very considerable debt, and I have been solemnly warned against you by the young lady whom I met at the Café de Paris. I have been assured that association with you is the first step toward my undoing. Monsieur Bartot, for all his bluster, seemed very anxious to be friendly."
"It was the girl!" Louis exclaimed. "Bartot was too big a fool to understand!"
I sighed.
"I fear that I am in the same position as Monsieur Bartot," I said. "I do not understand!"
There was a warning cry. I had only just time to swing myself on to the slowly moving train. Louis ran for a moment by the side.
"Those people are harmless," he said. "They merely wished, if they could, to make use of you. Mademoiselle has tied other fools to her chariot wheels before now, that Bartot may grow fat. But, monsieur!"
I leaned over to catch his words.
"If Monsieur or Mademoiselle Delora should address you," he said, "you need have no fear. They are not of the same order as Bartot and Susette."
"I will remember," I answered, waving my farewells.
I regained my compartment,