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?"
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!_"