"Well, isn't it?"

He murmured again, "Oh, so little." At this I laughed, and a
faintly humorous expression passed over Mills' face. No. Bribes
were out of the question, he admitted. But there were many
legitimist sympathies in Paris. A proper person could set them in
motion and a mere hint from high quarters to the officials on the
spot not to worry over-much about that wreck. . . .

What was most amusing was the cool, reasonable tone of this amazing
project. Mr. Blunt sat by very detached, his eyes roamed here and
there all over the cafe; and it was while looking upward at the
pink foot of a fleshy and very much foreshortened goddess of some
sort depicted on the ceiling in an enormous composition in the
Italian style that he let fall casually the words, "She will manage
it for you quite easily."

"Every Carlist agent in Bayonne assured me of that," said Mr.
Mills. "I would have gone straight to Paris only I was told she
had fled here for a rest; tired, discontented. Not a very
encouraging report."

"These flights are well known," muttered Mr. Blunt. "You shall see
her all right."

"Yes. They told me that you . . . "

I broke in: "You mean to say that you expect a woman to arrange
that sort of thing for you?"