"
"He was found dead in his study--poisoned."
"He was found there--yes, but the poison was given to him in the Cafe
Montmartre, and it was there that he died. I am behind the scenes in
some of these matters, but I know enough to hold my tongue, or my London
letter wouldn't be worth a pound a week. I am giving myself away to you
now, Duncombe. I am risking a position which it has taken me twenty
years to secure. I've got to tell you these things, and you must do as I
tell you. Go back to London!"
Duncombe laughed as he rose to his feet.
"Not though the Vicomte's fate is to be mine to-night," he answered.
"The worse hell this place is the worse the crew it must shelter. I
should never hold my head up again if I sneaked off home and left the
girl in their hands. I don't see how you can even suggest it."
"Only because you can't do the least good," Spencer answered. "And
besides, don't run away with a false impression. The place is dangerous
only for certain people. The authorities don't protect murderers or
thieves except under special circumstances. The Vicomte's murderer and
De Laurson's were brought to justice. Only they keep the name of the
place out of it always.
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