She was killed because she was going
to give you certain information."
Duncombe shuddered.
"Great Heaven!" he exclaimed. "Tell me, Spencer, who or what can be at
the back of all this? Guy Poynton was simply a healthy-minded, not
over-intelligent, young Saxon, unambitious, and passionately fond of his
home and his country life. He had no friends over here, no interests, no
ties of any sort. He was abroad for the first time of his life. He
regarded foreign countries and people simply with the tolerant curiosity
of the untravelled Britisher. He appears in Paris for one night and
disappears, and forthwith all the genius of French espionage seems to
have combined to cover up his traces. It is the same with his sister,
only as she came afterwards it was evidently on his account that she
also is drawn into the mystery. What can be the meaning of it, Spencer?"
"My young friend," Spencer said, "I will be frank with you. I have not
the least idea! I only know that somehow or other you're up against a
big thing. In a week--perhaps a day--I may know more. Meanwhile I want
you to go on your way precisely as though you and I had not discussed
this matter.
Pages:
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106