"He is sitting there with an Englishman who comes from our Intelligence Department," Julien explained. "They were speaking together of some one—I believe it was myself—speaking in none too friendly terms. There was a woman, too, whose name they coupled with mine, but I could not hear that. I made some inquiries about the man. I was told that he was in the suite of the German Ambassador."
She nodded.
"Whoever or whatever he is," she said, "he is something to be abhorred.
Hush! There is some one coming down the footpath."
They sat quite silent. Some instinct seemed to tell them who it was.
Suddenly they heard the voice—rasping, unpleasant.
"You have bungled the affair, Foster. It is not well-managed; it is not clever. You were to have brought him to me, to have let me know the instant he reached Paris. I would have seen him. Just as he was, I should have succeeded. Now it may be that this woman has warned him already. She is very clever. If she has him, he will not escape."
Foster's voice was inaudible, but whatever he said seemed to anger his companion.
"Thunder and lightning!" they heard the man exclaim. "Am I a fool that you talk to me like this? Yes, I go to him—I go to him to-night, but I tell you that it is too late! If it is too late, there is but one thing to be done. You are a coward, Foster!"
They came out into the open, on the path which fringed the river, and they were immediately silent. They came strolling along and noticed for the first time the two figures upon the seat. Instantly they began to talk upon some local subject. No escape was possible. In a few minutes they were opposite the bench. Foster started a little. The other man's face darkened. He ventured upon a bow. Madame Christophor looked at him as one might look upon some strange animal. Foster hesitated for a moment, but his companion pushed him along.
"I think," she whispered, "that that man would like to do me an injury."
Julien was watching their retreating forms.