"You will pay for the service?" he inquired warily.
"Anything in reason," I answered impatiently.
"She said you would pay what I asked," he temporized.
"She! Who?"
My worst fears were confirmed. I took one step forward and grasped the ruffian by the arm.
"Who?" I repeated. "Tell me, if you value your life! And give me the message."
"No offense, no offense, monsieur" he growled, pulling away from me. "Mademoiselle Murray——"
"Give it to me," I insisted. "We will talk of pay afterward."
He reluctantly withdrew his hand from his shirt, and offered me a folded square of heavy paper, stained with sweat. I opened it carefully, lest it tear, and saw these lines of fine, angular writing staring me in the face:
"La Vierge du Bois, ye 21st Sptr., 1725.