"Why, look, Owen! Do you see that man with the short dark overcoat
standing under the lamp over there? I've seen him several times
to-day. Do you know, he seems to be watching us!"
"Watching you!" cried her father, starting to his feet and joining us.
The long wooden sun-shutters were closed, so, on opening the windows
which led to the balcony we could see between the slats without being
observed from outside.
I looked at the spot indicated by my wife, and then saw on the other
side of the way a youngish-looking man idly smoking a cigarette and
gazing in the direction of the Place de la Concorde, as though
expecting some one.
I could not distinguish his features, yet I saw that he wore brown
boots, and that the cut of his clothes and the shape of his hat were
English.
"Where have you seen him before?" I asked of her.
"I first met him when I came out of Lentheric's this morning. Then,
again, when we lunched at the Volnay he was standing at the corner of
the Rue de la Paix and the Rue Daunou. He followed us in the Rue
Royale later on."
"And now he seems to have mounted guard outside, eh?" I remarked,
somewhat puzzled. "Why did you not tell me this before?"
"I did not wish to cause you any anxiety, Owen," was her simple reply,
while her father asked--
"Do you know the fellow? Ever seen him before, Sylvia?"
"Never in my life," she declared. "It's rather curious, isn't it?"
"Very," I said.
And as we all three watched we saw him move away a short distance and
join a taller man who came from the direction he had been looking. For
a few moments they conversed. Then the new-comer crossed the road
towards us and was lost to sight.
In a few seconds a ragged old man, a cripple, approached the
mysterious watcher with difficulty, and said something to him as he
passed.
"That cripple is in the business!" cried Pennington, who had been
narrowly watching. "He's keeping observation, and has told him
something. Some deep game is being played here, Biddulph."
"I wonder why they are watching?" I asked, somewhat apprehensive of
the coming evil that had been so long predicted.
Father and daughter exchanged curious glances. It seemed to me as
though a startling truth had dawned upon them both. I stood by in
silence.
"It is certainly distinctly unpleasant to be watched like
this--providing, of course, that Sylvia has not made a mistake,"
Pennington said.
"I have made no mistake," she declared quickly. "I've been much
worried about it all day, but did not like to arouse Owen's
suspicions;" and I saw by her face that she was in dead earnest.
At the same moment, however, a light tap was heard upon the door and a
waiter opened it, bowing as he announced--
"Monsieur Pierre Delanne to see Monsieur Biddulph."
"Great Heavens, Sylvia!" cried Pennington, standing pale-faced and
open-mouthed. "It's Guertin! He must not discover that I am in Paris!"
Then, turning to me in fear, he implored: "Save me from this meeting,
Biddulph! Save me--if you value your wife's honour, I beg of you. I'll
explain all afterwards. _Only save me!_"