"I must tell you. But perhaps you knew there were agents de police in the restaurant to-night?"
Liane's head described a negative; her violet eyes were limpid pools of candour.
"I am so much a stranger in Paris," Lanyard pursued, "I would not know them. But I thought you, perhaps----"
"No, no, my friend, I have nothing to do with the police, I know little about them. Not only that, but I was so interested in our talk, and then inexpressibly shocked, I paid attention to nothing else."
"I understand. Otherwise you must have noticed who followed me."
"You were followed?"
And she had found the effrontery to chide him for lack of faith in her! He was in pain: for all that, the moment seemed amusing.
"We are followed, I assure you," Lanyard replied gravely. "One man or two--I don't know how many--in a town-car."
"But you are sure?"
"All we could get was a hansom drawn by a snail. The automobile, running without lights, went no faster, kept a certain distance behind us all the way from the Place Pigalle to the apartment of Mademoiselle Reneaux. What have you to say to that? Furthermore, when Mademoiselle Reneaux had persuaded me to take refuge in her apartment--who knew what they designed?--one man left the automobile as it passed her door and stood on watch across the way. Could one require proof that one was followed?"