“I have brought no gift for Mademoiselle de Renzie,” I prevaricated boldly; but the man’s knowledge of my name was ominous. If the Paris police had contrived to learn it already, as well as to find out that I was the bearer of something for Maxine, it looked as if they knew enough to play the game in their own way—whatever that might be.
“Perhaps I should say, the thing which Mademoiselle lent—to a friend in England, and Monsieur has now kindly returned,” amended the Commissary of Police as politely, as patiently, as ever.
“Really, I don’t know what you are talking about,” I said, shrugging my shoulders and looking bewildered—or hoping that I looked bewildered. All the while I was wondering, desperately, if this meant ruin for Maxine, or if she would still find some way of saving herself. But all I could do for her at the moment was to keep calm, and tell as many lies as necessary. I hadn’t been able to lie to Diana; but I had no compunctions about doing it now, if it were to help Maxine. The worst was, that I was far from sure it would help her.
“I trust, Monsieur, that you do not wish to prevent the French police from doing their duty,” said the officer, his tone becoming peremptory for the first time. “Should you attempt it, I should unfortunately be compelled to order that Monsieur be searched.”
“You seem to forget that you’re dealing with a British subject,” said I.
“Who is offending against the laws of a friendly country,” he capped my words. “You can complain afterwards, Monsieur. But now—”
“Why don’t you empty your pockets, Mr. Dundas,” suggested Maxine, lightly, yet contemptuously, “and show them that you’ve nothing in which the police can have any interest? I suppose the next thing they propose, will be to search me.”
“I deeply regret to say that will be the next thing, Mademoiselle, unless satisfaction is given to me,” returned the Commissary of Police.
Maxine threw back her thick veil; and if this were the first time these men had ever seen the celebrated actress off the stage, it seemed to me that her beauty must almost have dazzled them, thus suddenly displayed. For Maxine is a gloriously handsome woman, and never had she been most striking, more wonderful, than at that moment, when her dark eyes laughed out of her white face, and her red lips smiled as if neither they, nor the great eyes, had any secret to hide.
