Lenwade for a moment was silent, then he shrugged his shoulders. 'You must have mistaken me for some one else,' he declared. 'Good-night!' He took his leave a little abruptly. Lavendale watched him disappear. Then he glanced towards his companion. His face had become graver. 'Let me put a case to you, my fellow conspirator,' he begged. 'I will put one to you instead,' she replied. 'I know for a fact that Philip Lenwade has been in France for two months, flying every day, engaged upon some special task. He denies it to us--quite properly, perhaps--but should he come to places like this, should he drink champagne so that he is compelled to hold the table while he stands? It is true that all the world knows of his infatuation for Félanie. She is safe, perhaps--a Frenchwoman and a patriot--yet there is something about it which I do not like. She and Lenwade have been whispering together half the evening, and more than once I have seen Lenwade shake his head and push her away.' 'Supposing Félanie,' he whispered, 'were not a Frenchwoman at all?' Suzanne said nothing. She waited, watching her companion with wide-open eyes. Lavendale looked down upon the tablecloth. 'From you,' he continued simply, 'I have no secrets. Nine years ago I knew Félanie in Paris. She went then by the name of Adèle Goetz. She was a German.' 'Go on.' 'I watched her from the box to-night. At first I was oppressed, as I have been before, by some vague sense of familiarity in her gestures. Suddenly--I think it was the way she shrugged her shoulders, one higher than the other--anyhow, something brought it all back to me. That was why I left you, Suzanne. I went to her room. Her flaxen hair has become blue-black, she has altered in many ways but I discovered that I was right.' 'She is a German, posing as a Frenchwoman, in London to-day?' Suzanne exclaimed. 'Why does she run this risk?' 'That is what I have asked myself,' he whispered, 'that and another question--what is her interest in Lenwade? Hush! We are talking too earnestly. That fellow Anders--they say he is really her husband--watches us. Here comes Luigi. Talk to him for a moment.' The manager paused at their table and received their compliments on the success of the evening. When he passed on, Félanie had risen as though to go, and Lenwade was arranging her cloak around her shoulders. Anders was still talking to some other members of the company, and friends seated at the great round table in front of the orchestra. Félanie and Lenwade were half-way down the room before the others began to follow. Lavendale rose quickly to his feet. 'Listen,' he said, 'I am going upstairs and shall come down again just far enough, in case I can hear anything. You go through alone and wait for me on the divan. Tell me if those two go away together, and if so, what is their destination.'