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She started, and drew a little away, glancing nervously toward the door. "I am terrified," she said. "Monsieur must come to my apartments one afternoon, where we can talk without fear. There is one more question, though," she continued rapidly. "Louis looked often at us. Tell me, did he say anything to you about Monsieur Bartot and myself?"
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?
Was it some sort of secret organization, an organization which assumed to itself, at any rate, the power to circumvent the police? And Bartot, too! Had he really the power which Louis had declared him to possess? If so, why had he baited a clumsy trap for me and permitted me to walk out of it untouched? What did they want from me, these people? The thought was utterly confusing.
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 you are protected, who is there who will dare to touch you? Monsieur Decresson has all the police dancing to his bidding, and if that were not sufficient, Monsieur Bartot could rescue you even from prison. No, you are safe enough, monsieur, even if you remain here! It is Louis, eh, who is anxious for you to return to England?" "My time was nearly up anyhow," I told her.
The situation was quite plain to me. However little flattering it might be to my vanity, I should not have been in the least surprised if Monsieur Bartot had held out his hands, begged my pardon, and ordered a bottle of wine. "Be reasonable, monsieur," I begged. "It is open to every one, surely, to admire mademoiselle? For the rest, I have been here only a few moments.
"It is not wise," he said, "to ask that question of any whom you meet here. Henri Bartot was one of the wildest youths in Paris. It was he who started the first band of thieves, from which developed the present hoard of apaches." "And now?" I asked. "He is their unrecognized, unspoken-of leader," Louis whispered. "The man who offends him to-night would be lucky to find himself alive to-morrow."
"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, which I was annoyed to find had filled up till mine was the only vacant seat.
It may have been my fancy, but I thought, also, that he looked at the wine card stretched out before me. "Be careful!" Louis whispered. "Be careful! And, for God's sake, destroy that note!" I laughed, and as Bartot was compelled to turn his back to me to regain his seat, this time at the table with his companion, I raised my glass, looking her full in the face, and drank.
He came up to us directly, however. The waiter was serving us with caviare. "I hope you will enjoy very much your dinner," he said, bowing. "I have taken special pains with everything. Two dinners to-night I have ordered with my own lips from the chef. One is yours, and the other the dinner of our friend Monsieur Bartot."
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