"I have brought no gift for Mademoiselle de Renzie," I prevaricated
boldly; but the man's knowledge of my name was ominous. If the Paris
police had contrived to learn it already, as well as to find out that I
was the bearer of something for Maxine, it looked as if they knew enough
to play the game in their own way--whatever that might be.

"Perhaps I should say, the thing which Mademoiselle lent--to a friend in
England, and Monsieur has now kindly returned," amended the Commissary
of Police as politely, as patiently, as ever.

"Really, I don't know what you are talking about," I said, shrugging my
shoulders and looking bewildered--or hoping that I looked bewildered.
All the while I was wondering, desperately, if this meant ruin for
Maxine, or if she would still find some way of saving herself. But all I
could do for her at the moment was to keep calm, and tell as many lies
as necessary. I hadn't been able to lie to Diana; but I had no
compunctions about doing it now, if it were to help Maxine. The worst
was, that I was far from sure it would help her.

"I trust, Monsieur, that you do not wish to prevent the French police
from doing their duty," said the officer, his tone becoming peremptory
for the first time. "Should you attempt it, I should unfortunately be
compelled to order that Monsieur be searched."

"You seem to forget that you're dealing with a British subject," said I.

"Who is offending against the laws of a friendly country," he capped my
words. "You can complain afterwards, Monsieur. But now--"

"Why don't you empty your pockets, Mr. Dundas," suggested Maxine,