"Depechez-vous! Vous sommes presses!" he added.

But Henri was minded to play. He girded himself with the towel and

struck an attitude.

"The Russian ballet, Jean!" he said, and capering madly sent Jean

into deep grumbles of laughter by his burlesque.

"I must have exercise," Henri said at last when, breathless and with

flying hair, he began to dress. "That, too, is my English schooling. If

you, Jean--"

"To the devil with your English schooling!" Jean remonstrated.

Henri sobered quickly after that. The exhilaration of his cold plunge

was over.

"The American lady?" he asked. "She is all right?"

"She is worried. There is not enough money."

Henri frowned.

"And I have nothing!"

This opened up an old wound with Jean.

"If you would be practical and take pay for what you are doing," he began.

Henri cut him short.

"Pay!" he said. "What is there to pay me with? And what is the use of

reopening the matter? A man may be a spy for love of his country. God

knows there is enough lying and deceit in the business. But to be a spy

for money--never!"

There was a little silence. Then: "Now for mademoiselle," said Henri.

"She must be out of the village to-night. And that, dear friend, must

be your affair. She does not like me."

All the life had gone out of his voice.




readonlinefreebook.com Copyright 2016 - 2024