"I had no idea," he said, "that you were contemplating anything of the
sort."
"I was not!" Spencer answered grimly. "I am as much surprised myself as
all my friends will be."
Duncombe was puzzled.
"I am afraid I don't quite understand," he said. "You can't mean that
your people----"
"No! My people have nothing to do with it," Spencer answered. "I have
had the sack, but not from them. It is Paris which will have no more of
me. I live here, of course, on my faculties for obtaining information,
and my _entree_ into political and social life. To-day the Minister of
Police has declined to receive me, or at any future time--my cards of
entry into the chamber and half a dozen places have been revoked, my
name has been expunged from the visiting list of the President, and
practically of every other person of importance. All that I may see of
Paris now is from the outside. And there is no appeal!"
"But what is the reason of it, Spencer? What have you done? How have you
offended all these people?"
Spencer hesitated.
"I don't want you to blame yourself in any way, Duncombe," he said. "You
could not possibly have guessed the sort of thing you were up against.
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