He would end negotiations instantly."
"When are you to see him?"
"This afternoon at three."
"At Chartrands?"
"No, in Union Station."
"It's a long way to go," Marston observed.
"So I intimated, but without avail."
"Is he afraid?"
"No, only inexperienced in deception and over cautious. Moreover, it is
a serious business."
"Particularly since Harleston is on the trail?" Marston added.
Mrs. Spencer nodded again. "We'll pray that he does not uncover the
matter until we are up and away."
"If we pray, it should be effective!" Marston laughed.
"It likely will be--one way or the other," she returned drily. "However,
if we are careful, a prayer more or less won't effect much damage. It's
really up to the--man in the case. If he can get away with it, we can
manage the rest."
"And if he can't?"
"Then there will be nothing on us, unless the Clephane letter is
translated and implicates me by name--or Paris resorts to cable. If it
were not for France's meddling, it would be ridiculously simple so far
as we are concerned; everything would be up to the man."
"And you do not know who the man is, nor what he is about to betray?"
Marston asked.
"I do not--nor am I in the least inquisitive, despite the fact that I'm
a woman.
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