"If it is he," Madame murmured, "there is danger, there is always danger!
You remember—at Brussels—"
I could hear no more, and I dared not show my curiosity. Somewhat abruptly, it seemed to me, the little party finished their luncheon and departed. The place began to grow emptier, I took careful stock of the few people that were left, and decided that the coast was clear. I returned to Adèle and her friend.
"Tell us both quickly," she said in a low tone, "exactly how things stand. This gentleman is the head of the French secret police. He is here to help, if it is possible."
"We have collected our material," I answered, "and placed it before the government here. We are up against an impasse. Through different sources we have approached several members of the Cabinet. The result has been the same in every case. We are treated as madmen. Polloch will do nothing. The fleet has sailed, the rifles remain in the alleys of Soho and Heaven knows where. Not a single precautionary measure has been taken."
"In a lesser degree," she said, "I, too, have failed. I have succeeded in getting the royalist officers removed from the frontier army, but with regard to the navy, they would do nothing. The French government declined to believe that England might need assistance. We shall get no aid from there."
The little old gentleman leaned over and addressed me.
"What is your next step?"
"We have none," I answered bluntly. "I have only spoken for a minute or two with Guest since we heard of our last failure. Shall I fetch him?"
Adèle nodded. I went for Guest, who was promenading the room with his hands behind him, casting every now and then a sharp glance in our direction.
"They wish to speak to you," said.