"I kept my appointment with the young lady of the turquoises." Louis' pale face seemed suddenly strained.
"It was my fault!" he muttered.

"I should not have left you! You do not understand how those affairs are here in Paris! If Bartot knew--" "Bartot did know," I interrupted.
Louis' face was a study.
"Bartot came in while I was talking to mademoiselle," I said.
"There was a scene ?" Louis inquired breathlessly.

"Bartot threatened monsieur?
Perhaps there were blows ?" "Nothing of the sort," I answered.

"Bartot blustered a little and mademoiselle wrung her hands, but they played their parts badly.
Between you and me, Louis, I have a sort of an idea that Bartot's coming was not altogether accidental." "It was a trap," Louis murmured softly.

"But why ?" I shook my head.
"Louis," I said, "I am the wrong sort of man to be even a temporary dweller in this nest of intrigue.