Monsieur Louis did not seem to think the matter important.
"It was bound to happen," he said. "If you had been like your friends—the English baronet and the last two, who are even more amusing—perhaps it would not have been necessary. But you understand—you were beginning to discover things."
"Yes," Spencer admitted. "I was beginning to get interested."
"Exactly! We were forced to act. I can assure you, Monsieur Spencer, that it was with reluctance. The others of whom I have spoken—Sir George Duncombe, Monsieur Pelham, and his toy detective—forgive me that I smile—walk all the time in the palm of our hand. But they remain unharmed. If by any chance they should blunder into the knowledge of things which might cause us annoyance, why, then—there would be more invalids in Paris. Indeed, Monsieur, we do not seek to abuse our power. My errand to you to-day is one of mercy."
"You make me ashamed," Spencer said, with a sarcasm which he took no pains to conceal, "of my unworthy suspicions. To proceed."
"You have sent for Sir George Duncombe to come and see you!"
Spencer was silent for a moment. His own servant unfaithful? It was not possible.
"Well?"
"Even you," the Baron continued, "have not yet solved the mystery of l'affaire Poynton. But you know more than Sir George. Let me recommend that you do not share your knowledge with him."
"Why not?"