“Life must be beautiful,” she said to Danby Force, “but how can it be, for all?”
“It must be increasingly beautiful for all.” The young man’s face set in hard lines of determination.
Jeanne thought of the work he had done for his own little city, thought too of those industrial spies who threatened to destroy it all. “I must help,” she told herself almost fiercely. “I must do all I can. Life,” she whispered reverently, “Life must be beautiful.”
As for Florence, her mind all this while was so full of the morrow that she had little thought for the passing hour. “Tomorrow,” she was saying to herself, “I shall be speeding through the air with Danby Force on my way to a new field and fresh adventure. I am to help the children, yes, and the grownups, of a small city—to enjoy life. At the same time I am to search for a spy.” She wondered in a vague sort of way what that search would be like and how successful she would be as a lady detective. She was wondering still when Danby Force said:
“Time for a hot drink before the clock strikes one.”
“Yes. Oh yes!” Jeanne’s voice rose in sudden eagerness. “I know the very place. It is run by some English gypsies. At this time of night only gypsies will be found there. But, ah my friend, such good tea as they brew! You never could know until you have sipped it.”
“Ah, a gypsy’s den at one in the morning! Show us the way.” And Danby hailed a taxi.
Ten minutes later they were entering a long, low basement room such as only Jeanne had seen before. It was finished as the inside of the ancient gypsy vans were finished, in a score of bright colors, red, yellow, orange, blue, silver and gold. There were few lights. Some were like ancient lanterns, and some were mere glimmering tapers. Trophies of the hunt hung against the walls—the head of a deer, the grinning skeleton of a wild boar’s head.
There were no chairs. Instead all sat, true gypsy fashion, on rugs. Strange rugs they were too, woven of some heavy material and all brightly colored.
In one corner a group of dark foreign looking people in bright costumes sat smoking long-stemmed pipes and sipping tea. A cloud of smoke, hanging close to the ceiling, created the illusion of low-hanging clouds and the out-of-doors.