Foster's appointment consumed over an hour, and on leaving the government building where it had taken place, he walked aimlessly through the city streets, so deep in thought that he gave no heed to the direction he was taking. His absorption blinded him to the appearance of an inconspicuously dressed, heavily veiled woman who, at sight of him, shrank back under cover of the archway leading to a movie theater, until he had passed safely up the street. She was about to step out on the sidewalk again when the sight of a man walking rapidly down the street in the direction Foster had disappeared, caused her to remain in partial concealment. The woman peered at the last man irresolutely, while pretending to examine a gaudy, flaring poster of the movie, one hand pressed to her rapidly beating heart. Coming to a sudden decision, she hastened after him, and nearing an intersecting street, overtook him. "Captain Miller," she called timidly, and at sound of his name, Miller turned toward her. "Yes?" his hand raised toward his hat at sight of a woman. "You called me?" "Yes, Captain." She drew nearer. "You do not recognize me, but"--sinking her voice--"I am Julie." "Julie?" he echoed. "_Oui, monsieur_," in rapid French. "Mademoiselle Kathleen's maid. Ah, monsieur, for the love you bear her, advise _me_ now. It is for her sake, not for mine." The Captain eyed her intently. "I don't catch your meaning," he said, in her native tongue. "You have surely heard, Captain, of the death of that devil, Spencer"--Behind her veil, the Frenchwoman's eyes sparkled with rage. "Well, Captain, his death was--justified." "I have no doubt of it," agreed her companion. "But, in the eyes of the law, it will be termed...." "Murder." Her white lips barely formed the word, and she glanced fearfully behind her. Her half-conscious action recalled the Captain to their surroundings, and he, too, glanced up the street. Apparently they had it to themselves; in that unfrequented part of the city there were few passers-by. The Captain's eyes narrowed; he preferred never to be conspicuous; a crowded street was more to his liking. "Suppose we move on," he suggested, but the Frenchwoman held back. "I have spent all the morning at the moving pictures," she said. "There it is dark. Let us find another." "Very well; we can talk as we go," and the Captain suited his step to hers. "And suppose also that we confine our remarks to English." "As monsieur pleases." She half repented her impulsive act. She had intrusted her secret to another. Would that other prove loyal? A faint shiver crept down her spine, and she pressed one mitted hand over the other. "I seek seclusion, monsieur, because--I know too much." "'A little knowledge'"--the Captain did not finish the quotation. "Let us turn down here," and not waiting for her consent, he piloted her up a side street. "You do not, then, wish to make a confidant of the police?"