to start,” he told her, “in half-an-hour.”
“Then I’ll mend my frock in the plane,” she decided.
“And,” he went on, “as I should like to take a tolerably clean girl into England may I remind you, young lady, that I carried your dressing-case all the way up the hill and Madame Renouf has put it in one of the rooms that hasn’t been used. It has a bathroom and she will provide a maid to help you. You have exactly half-an-hour from now.”
She was gone like a flash.
“Quickest thing on her feet I’ve ever seen,” Blute remarked, as he watched her admiringly. “I’m not much for the other sex myself, Mr. Mildenhall, but I think you’re to be envied.”
The two men shook hands warmly.
“And so is she,” Blute declared. “I can’t say I’ve known many Englishmen, Mr. Mildenhall, but you’re—well, you’re all right. I shall be always glad I’ve known you.”
“And I’ve just one thing to say to you in reply, Blute,” Charles said with his hand on the other’s shoulder. “You never said a word when I nearly let you down, you never even looked what you must have felt. That was the action and the reserve of a great gentleman.”
“Ah, well,” Blute said, “you knew.” Half-an-hour later he watched their plane pass westwards—a glittering speck in the sky.
THE END
THE DOUBLE TRAITOR
CHAPTER I
The woman leaned across the table towards her companion.
“My friend,” she said, “when we first met—I am ashamed, considering that I dine alone with you to-night, to reflect how short a time ago—you spoke of your removal here from Paris very much as though it were a veritable exile. I told you then that there might be surprises in store for you. This restaurant, for instance! We both know our Paris, yet do we lack anything here which you find at the Ritz or Giro’s?”
The young man looked around him appraisingly. The two were dining at one of the newest and most fashionable restaurants in Berlin. The room itself, although a little sombre by reason of its oak panelling, was relieved from absolute gloom by the lightness and elegance of its