For instance, if those Englishmen
learned that I had refrained from telling them of our meeting at the St.
Ives, I should hear from them, I fancy."
Again her eyes were widening. What attractive eyes she had!
"The St. Ives?" she repeated wonderingly. "Why should that interest
them? What do you mean?" Then, suddenly, she bent forward, propped
her elbows on the table, and amazed me with a slow, astonished,
comprehending smile. "I see!" she murmured, studying me intently. "You
thought that I screened the man who hid those papers, that I crossed the
ocean on--similar business, perhaps even that on this side I was to take
the documents from your trunk?"
"Naturally," I rejoined stiffly. "And I congratulate you. It was a
brilliant piece of work; though, as its victim, I fail to see it in the
rosiest light."
"I understand," she went on, still smiling faintly. "You thought I
was--well--Look over yonder."
Her glance, seeking the opposite wall unostentatiously, directed my
attention to a black-lettered, conspicuously posted sign:
BE SILENT!
BE MISTRUSTFUL!
THE EARS OF THE ENEMY ARE LISTENING!
Thus it shouted its warning, like the thousands of its kind that are
scattered about the trains, the boats, the railroad stations, and all
the public places of France.
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