thinking something of that sort, I fancy."
Warner smiled too, rather faintly, but remained silent.
"This is what I want you to do," continued Halkett. "I've a long thin envelope in my pocket. I'd like to have you take it from me and slip it into your breast pocket and then button your coat. Is that too much to ask?"
"What!"
"That's all I want you to do. Then if you wouldn't mind giving me your name and address? And that is really all I ask."
Said the American, amused and surprised:
"That airy request of yours requires a trifle more explanation than you seem inclined to offer."
"I know it does. I can't offer it. Only – you won't get into trouble if you keep that envelope buttoned tightly under your coat until I come for it again."
"But I'm not going to do that!"
"Why?"
"Why the devil should I? I don't propose to wander about France carrying papers concerning which I know nothing – to oblige a young man about whom I know even less."
"I quite see that," admitted Halkett seriously. "I shouldn't feel inclined to do such a thing either."
"Can't you tell me what is the nature of these papers? – Or something – some explanation – "
"I'm sorry."
"And why do you propose to trust me with them?" continued Warner, curiously. "How do you know I am honest? How do you know I won't examine your packet as soon as you clear out?"
Halkett looked up with his quick and winning smile:
"I'll take that risk."
"Why? You don't know me."
"I had a good look at you in the market square before I spoke to you."
"Oh. You think you are a psychologist?"
"Of sorts. It's a part of my business in life."
"Suppose," said Warner, smiling, "you explain a little more clearly to me exactly what is your actual business in life."
"Very glad to. I write."
"Books?"
"No; just – stories."
"Fiction?"
"As one might say, facts rather than fiction."
"You are a realist?" suggested Warner with slight irony.
"I try to be. But do you know, there is more romance in realism than in fairy tales?"
Warner, considerably diverted, nodded:
"I know. You belong to the modern school, I take it."
"Very modern. So modern, in fact, that my work concerns tomorrow rather than today."
Warner nodded again:
"I see. You are a futurist – opportunist. There are a lot of clever men working on those lines in England… Still – " he glanced amusedly at Halkett " – that scarcely explains your rather unusual request. Why should I take charge of an envelope for you?"
"My dear fellow, I can't answer that… Still – I may say this much; I'm hard put to it – rather bewildered – had a rotten time of it in the Grand Duchy and in Belgium – so to speak – "
"What do you mean by a rotten time?"
"Rows."
"I don't understand. You'll have to be more explicit."
"Well – it had to do with this envelope I carry. Some chaps of sorts wanted to get it away from me. Do you see? … I had a lively time, and I rather expect to have another before I get home – if I ever get there."
Warner looked at him out of clear, sophisticated eyes:
"See here, my ingenuous British friend," he said, "play square with me, if you play at all."
"I shan't play otherwise."
"Very well, then; why are you afraid to carry that envelope?"
"Because," said Halkett, coolly, "if I'm knocked on the head and that envelope is found in my clothing and is stolen, the loss of my life would be the lesser loss to my friends."
"Is anybody trying to kill you?"
Halkett shrugged his shoulders; but there seemed to be neither swagger nor bravado in his careless gesture of assent. He said:
"Listen; here's my case in brief. I saw you in the crowd yonder, and I made up my mind concerning you. I have to think quickly sometimes; I took a good look at you and – " He waved one hand. "You look like a soldier. I don't know whether you are or not. But I am ready to trust you. That's all."
"Do you mean to say that you are in any real personal danger?"
"Yes. But that doesn't count. I can look out for myself. What worries me is this envelope. Couldn't you take charge of it? I'd be very grateful."
"How long do you expect me to carry it about?"
"I don't know. I don't know whether anything is likely to happen to me today in this town – or tomorrow on the train – or in Paris – I have no means of knowing. I merely want to get to Paris, if I can, and send a friend back here for that envelope."
"I thought you were to return for it yourself."
"Maybe. Maybe I'll send you a letter by a friend – just a line for him to give you, saying it's all right."
"Mr. Halkett, you have rather a disconcerting way of expressing unlimited confidence in me – "
"Yes, I trust you."
"But why?"
"You look right."
"That's no reason!"
"My dear chap, I'm in a corner, and instinct rules, not reason! You see, I – I'm rather afraid they may get me before I can clear out."
"Who'll get you?" demanded Warner impatiently.
"That's the worst of it; I don't know these fellows by sight. The same chaps never try it on twice."
Warner said quietly:
"What is this very dramatic mess you're in? Can't you give me a hint?"
"I'm sorry."
"Shall I give you a hint?"
"If you like."
"Are the police after you?"
"No."
"You're sure of that?"
"Quite sure. I don't blame you for asking. It looks that way. But it isn't."
"But
