“To be trusted, this girl? This Mademoiselle Dupay?”
“Oh, quite!”
“The scoundrels! They slip through our fingers at every turn. But we will have them yet. Surely they cannot escape us for long. There are too many looking for them—both of the secret police and of the army.”
“Then the woman, too! The old woman and that José may only be related. Perhaps she has nothing to do with—with——”
“With what, Mademoiselle?” he asked, smiling across the table at her, and that grimly.
“Is there not spying, too? Don’t you think these people are in communication with the Germans?”
“Could you expect me to answer that query, Mademoiselle?” he returned, his eyes suddenly twinkling. “But, yes! I see you are vitally interested. And you have heard this old wives’ tale of the werwolf.”
He quite startled her then, for she had said nothing of that in her letter to the Lyse prefect of police.
“Some matters must be cleared up. You may be able to help, Mademoiselle. I have come to ask you to make a call with me.”
“A call? On the Dupays? I hope I have said nothing to lead you to suppose that they are not loyal. And they have been kind to me.”