She had not started, but a slight tremor ran over her person and
vanished while I spoke.

"They will be allowed to proceed no farther,--the axe is sharpened; for
the last man who adjusted his mask was a spy,--was the Secretary of the
Secret Service."

Delphine could not have grown paler than was usual with her of late. She
flashed her eye upon me.

"He was, it may be, Monsieur himself," she said.

"I do not claim the honor of that post."

"But you were there, nevertheless,--a spy!"

"Hush, Delphine! It would be absurd to quarrel. I was there for the
recovery of this stone, having heard that it was in a cellar,--which,
stupidly enough, I had insisted should be a wine-cellar."

"It was, then"----

"In a salt-cellar,--a blunder which, as you do not speak English, you
cannot comprehend. I never mix with treason, and did not wish to assist
at your pastimes. I speak now, that you may escape."

"If Monsieur betrays his friends, the police, why should I expect a
kinder fate?"

"When I use the police, they are my servants, not my friends. I simply