"What is it that you have seen?" she asked.
"I was a fool not to have been prepared," he answered. "There is another article in to-night's paper, but of course he would have sent it off before—before the explosion happened. It is worse than the others!" he went on hoarsely. "Thank Heaven, that man is out of the way! I would give a million marks to be able to destroy every copy of this paper that was ever issued. It is not fair fighting!… It is barbarous! No longer can I hope for any privacy in this country. You see—you see, Marguerite? He has written of me openly. 'The Toymaker from Leipzig!'—that is what he has called me! These two, Kendricks and he, they saw through me from the first. They knew what it was that I desired. Damn them!"
Mademoiselle crossed herself instinctively. Once she had been religious.
"Poor Sir Julien!"
Herr Freudenberg sighed.
"To-morrow night, at any rate," he said, "there will be no article. We have made sure of that. I pray to Heaven that it may not be too late!"
She shuddered. The service of dinner was resumed.
"Put the paper away," she begged. "Don't let us think of it any more. After all, as you say, he was warned. Nothing that one feels now can do any good. Give me some wine. Talk to me of other things."
Estermen came in to them presently. Herr Freudenberg insisted upon his taking a chair. Once more he dismissed the waiters.
"All goes well," Estermen announced. "There is not an idea at headquarters as to the source of the explosion. I have been round with the newspaper men."