"That’s my theory, Halkett. I believe Philippa is there. I believe Wildresse is there. And I feel very sure that those two choice scoundrels of his at the Boule d’Argent will join him wherever he is. So I think we had better tie up our boat and go to the Boule d’Argent and find these fellows, Meier and Hoffman, and never let them out of our sight."
He knelt down on the grass, passed the boat chain around the base of the willow tree, linked and padlocked it, sprang to his feet, and walked quickly after Warner, who had already started to enter the Impasse d’Alcyon.
"You’re a little flustered, old chap," he said, as he rejoined Warner in the narrow alley. "Don’t walk so fast; we ought not to attract attention."
"I’m horribly nervous," admitted the other, slackening his pace.
"We’ll have to keep pretty cool about this affair. It won’t do to scare those scoundrels."
"Because if they really have her locked up in that cabaret. I’m afraid to guess what they might do to her if they thought their own skins were in danger."
"I know it," said Warner hoarsely. "I’m worried sick, I tell you! Wildresse has the worst face I ever looked at. There is only one word to characterize that countenance of his—bestial!"
"He’s a bad lot and he looks it. The military authorities would make short work of him if Philippa should ever hint at what she has found out about his rather complicated business affairs. That’s what I am afraid of—that he may take some terrible precaution in order to anticipate any danger from her——"
"He is capable of doing anything to prevent her from speaking. Keeping her locked up is the precaution that I dread least. What I’m afraid of is that he may kill her."
Warner turned a bloodless visage to his comrade:
"That’s what I’m afraid of, too," he said steadily enough. "I think we had better notify the police at once——"
"No, no! My papers are safe enough now. But I tell you, Warner, French temper is on a hair trigger, in spite of all this gravity and silence. The very word ’spy’ would be the match to the magazine."
"Suppose Wildresse denies his treachery and makes a counter-accusation against Philippa?"
"Suppose he declares that she betrayed him? Suppose already he has arranged documents to prove it? Suppose he had long ago taken such a precaution against any chance of her denouncing him? He is an old rat, grown grey in the business. He must have been perfectly aware that Philippa is honest—that it even went against her to do the dirty work that her own Government required of her. He must have known that if she ever discovered his double treachery, she would at least desert him, perhaps denounce him. No, no, Warner; that crafty old sewer rat left nothing to chance.