"If that girl now has an opportunity and the desire to denounce him, you can be absolutely certain that long ago he has foreseen and prepared himself for just such an event!"
"What does a young girl know about treachery? How many papers has Philippa ignorantly and innocently signed which might exculpate Wildresse and send _her_ before a peloton of execution in the first _caserne_ available? _That’s_ the way such rats as he protect themselves!
"No, Warner. It’s a filthy business at best, and I admit, sadly enough, that I know more about it than you ever could know.
"Listen, old chap! It’s no good stirring up the police until Philippa is outside French territory. Then, and then only, may we dare to let loose the police on this nest of rats in Ausone!"
"Very well," said Warner quietly. "I’ll act as you think best, only I’ll——" He stopped to regain control of himself. And when he had himself in hand again: "Only—it will be a—a bad mistake if Wildresse—if—if any harm comes to that child."
"Oh, in that event," said Halkett quietly, "we need not scruple to kill him where we find him."
"I shall not hesitate a second——" But Halkett suddenly checked him with a touch on his elbow, and drew him back behind the wall of the Impasse d’Alcyon, from which alley they were on the point of emerging into the town.
Two men were crossing the almost empty market square toward the Café Biribi, moving without haste over the sunny pavement.
"Hoffman and Meier," whispered Halkett. "There go our promising young rodents straight toward the old rat’s nest! It won’t do for them to catch sight of me.... Wait a moment! There they go—into the Café Biribi! Follow them—they don’t know you. Keep your eye on them.
"I’ll stroll over to the quay and dangle my legs on the river wall. If you need me, come out on the café terrace and beckon."
"Would it do to hand over that pair to the police? They are German spies, are they not?"
"They are. But at present they are likely to be useful. If Wildresse is in the café or the cabaret, they are sure to reveal the fact to us. Better go in and keep your eye on them. If you want me, I shall be smoking my pipe on the river wall across the street."
He nodded and strolled over toward the little tree-shaded quay, filling his pipe as he sauntered along. Warner continued on to the café, entered, seated himself against the shabby wall, picked up an illustrated journal, ordered bitters, and composed himself to enjoy the preprandial hour sacred to all Frenchmen.