"Are you sorry, Sabine? Would you rather go back to--to--before?"
She made a pretty gesture of closing his traitor lips with her
small hand.

"Not for worlds. But you soldiers--you are terrible men! Who can
resist you?"

"Bah! It is you who are irresistible. But there, why not put on
your jacket and let us go out to lunch somewhere--Durand's,
Voisin's, the Café de le Paix? Which do you prefer?"

"I suppose they will not try to stop us?"

"Who should try?" he asked.

"The people of the hotel--the police--I cannot exactly say whom;
but I dread something of the sort. I don't quite understand that
manager. He has been up to see me several times, and he spoke
rather oddly, rather rudely."

"Then he shall answer for it," snorted Sir Charles, hotly. "It is
the fault of that brute of a detective, I suppose. Still they
would hardly dare--"

"A detective? What? Here? Are you sure?"

"Perfectly sure. It is one of those from the Lyons Station. I knew
him again directly, and he was inclined to be interfering. Why, I
caught him trying--but that reminds me--I rescued this telegram