"Quite the contrary," he smiled. "Moreover, it is the course for you to
pursue; to hold back a single thing as to me will result only in
distrust. Indeed, implicating me will help substantiate your story."

"You're very good and very thoughtful," she murmured--and once more
suffered him to look deep into her eyes.

"I am very willing for you to think me both," he replied. "Now I'm going
to call a taxi at the Fourteenth Street exit, and follow yours up
Sixteenth Street until I see you at the French Embassy. Tell your
chauffeur to drive down to Twelfth Street, up to H and then out to
Sixteenth. My taxi will be loitering on Sixteenth and will pick up yours
as it passes and follow it to the Embassy. Once there you're out of
danger of the Spencer gang. And let me impress you with this fact: tell
the story to someone of the staff. If you fail to get to the Ambassador,
get a Secretary or an Attaché."

"I'll try to find someone who will listen!" she laughed.

"And I rather fancy you will be successful," he smiled. "It would be a
most unusual sort of man who won't both listen and look."

"Careful, Mr. Harleston!" she reminded.

He put her in the taxi; bowed and turned back into the hotel--wondering
why he had ever fancied Madeline Spencer.

Mrs. Clephane gave her orders to the chauffeur, ending with the
injunction to drive slowly.