The girl was bound somewhere on a secret purpose. Could these four men
be her accomplices? Were they going too?
"_A_ Bleau!"
Those had been her words to the chauffeur; for Bleau, then, she was
bound. But where did such a place exist? I had never heard of it;
and yet I possessed, I flattered myself, through the medium of
motor-touring, a fairly comprehensive knowledge of the map of France.
The affair was becoming a veritable nightmare. It seemed incredible that
a few minutes earlier I had resolved to wash my hands of it all. If the
girl had a disloyal mission, it was my plain duty to intercept her.
I could not denounce her to the police. I didn't analyze the why and
wherefore of my inability to take this step; I simply knew and accepted
it. If I interfered with what she was doing, I must interfere quietly,
alone.
Ordinarily I have as much imagination as a turnip, but now I indulged
in a sudden and surprising flight of fancy. Might it be, I found myself
wondering, that the men in the gray care were not Miss Falconer's
accomplices, but her pursuers? In that case, high as was her courage,
keen as were her wits,--I found myself thinking of them with a sort of
pride,--she was laboring under a handicap of which she could not dream.
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