"He would do so, but he is a Pole--and because he is a Pole he tells you that he has gone to Paris when the truth is that he is at Berlin all the time." "But why should he wish to deceive me, Paul--what am I to him?" "You are one necessary to his salvation--perhaps it is by you alone that he will live. I could see when I first spoke to you how much you were astonished that I knew anything about it, but remember, every Pole in London knows all about his fellow-countrymen, and so it is very natural that I know something of Richard Gessner. You who live in his house can tell me more. See what a gossip I am where my own people are concerned. You have been living in this man's house and you can tell me all about it--his tastes, his books, his friends. There would be many friends coming, of course?" "Not very many, Paul, and those chiefly city men. They eat a great deal and talk about money. It's all money up there--the rich, the rich, the rich--I wonder how long I shall be able to stand it." "Oh, money's a thing most people get used to very quickly. They can stand a lot of it, my boy. But are there not foreigners at your house--men of my own country?" "I have never seen any--once, I think, Mr. Gessner was talking to a stranger in the garden and he looked like a foreigner. You don't think I would spy upon him Paul?" "That would be the work of a very ungrateful fellow. None the less, if there are foreigners at Hampstead--I should wish to know of it." "You--and why?" "That I may save your kind friend from certain perils which I think are about to menace him. Yes, yes, he has been generous to you and I wish to reward him. He must not know--he must never hear my name in the matter, but should there be strangers at Hampstead let me know immediately--write to me if you cannot come here. Do not delay or you may rue it to the end of your days. Write to me, Alban, and I shall know how to help your friend." He had spoken under a spell of strong excitement, but his message delivered, he fell again to his old quiet manner; and having exchanged a few commonplaces with the astonished lad plainly intimated that he would be alone. Alban, surprised beyond measure, perceived in his turn that no amount of questioning would help him to a better understanding; and so, in a state of perplexity which defied expression, he said "Good night" and went out into the quiet street. CHAPTER XIV THERE ARE STRANGERS IN THE CAVES