He made a dart at her with upraised hand, but the lawyer was before him and gently pushed him back.
He jerked his head to the girl and, shaking like a leaf, she stepped to the door and went stumbling down the stairs, which she had mounted with such confidence a few minutes before.
Cartwright received the news with extraordinary equanimity.
“It has saved us the bother of going out of Paris,” he said thoughtfully. “And it was my own fault. I never connected that infernal fellow Ferreira with Brigot’s enterprises. And anyway, we should not have met in public. He said he saw us at the café, did he?”
The girl nodded.
“I did my best,” she faltered.
“Of course you did your best,” said Cartwright, patting her hand. “It is tough luck, but it can’t be helped.”
“There was a long silence, then:
“What about me?” asked the girl. “Where do I come in? I suppose you have no further use for my services?”
Cartwright smiled.