But the fact remains that my offence is in having sent my friends to the
Cafe Montmartre on your account, and in being suspected of rendering you
further assistance in your search for those two marvellous young English
people!"
"You are not joking by any chance, are you?" Duncombe asked gravely.
"The matter," Spencer replied, "does not appear to me to lend itself to
anything of the sort."
Duncombe buried his head in his hands for several moments.
"Great Heavens!" he murmured. "Let me think! I can't tell you how sorry
I am, old chap. Can't the thing be explained? As a matter of fact, you
were discretion itself."
"I don't want it explained," Spencer said, "even if it would do any
good--which it wouldn't! I should have retired in any case in less than
a year, and, as it is, I believe my successor is on his way over
already. Now would you like to know why I have come here at this hour of
the night to tell you this?"
Duncombe nodded.
"Go on!" he said. "Afterwards I've something to tell you."
"I've come," Spencer said, "because I'm free now, if you like, to help
you. I was interested in your story before. I am ten times more
interested in it now.
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