You will do this, please, because I ask you!"
"If I must," he said reluctantly. "I will go away, but not to worry
about you--that is impossible. You seem to be surrounded by all the
mediaeval terrors which confronted the emancipation of princesses in our
fairy books. Only a short time ago Duncombe implored me to follow his
example, and leave you and Paris alone. The detective whom I brought
with me has been shadowed ever since we left Paris. Last night he left
me for a few hours, and this morning comes a note from the hospital. He
is lying there with the back of his head beaten in--garotters, of
course, the police say, looking for plunder. How can you ask me to be
easy in my mind about you?"
She smiled reassuringly.
"No harm will come to me here, I can promise you," she said. "It is you
who run the most risk if you only knew it. Sir George Duncombe gave you
the best advice when he tried to get you to return to England."
"I cannot leave Lloyd now until he has recovered," Andrew answered.
"Tell me, Phyllis, has Duncombe found you out? Has he been here?"
"Yes," she answered. "I sent him away--as I am sending you."
"Has he ever told you," Andrew asked, "why he was willing in the first
instance to come to Paris in search of you?"
"No," she answered.
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