"_Non, non, monsieur_," lapsing again into rapid French. "I think only of Mademoiselle." A sudden gleam lighted the Captain's eyes. "Kathleen," his voice lingered on her name. "You think she is in danger?" "I do, monsieur, in great danger. Did I not see"--she paused in her hasty speech and bit her tongue; one indiscretion was leading to another. "It matters not what I saw, monsieur--I am sometimes nearsighted." "In that case, your eyes will be examined if testifying in a trial for murder," and he smiled covertly as he saw the fear tugging at her heart-strings. "Enough, Julie; I will respect your confidences. You know--how, I do not inquire--of my deep affection for Mademoiselle Kathleen...." "Who would not love her?" broke in Julie passionately. "So generous, so fearless and loyal! Ah! she will be faithful to France--she will guard her father's secret--aye, even to the bitter end." "Hush! not so loud," admonished the Captain, laying a steadying hand on her arm. "Let me think a moment." Totally unconscious of the tears which fell one by one on her white cheeks, the excited Frenchwoman kept step with him in silence for three blocks; then the Captain roused himself. "You are willing to shield Mademoiselle Kathleen at all costs?" he asked. "_Oui, monsieur._" "And you think you can best accomplish that result by avoiding the police?" "_Oui, monsieur_." "Have you money?" "A little, monsieur." She turned her troubled countenance toward him. "I cannot travel far." "It is wiser not to travel at all." The Captain slackened his walk before an unpretentious red brick residence. "The landlady of this house takes paying guests and asks no questions. Here you can remain _perdue_," with emphasis, "and no one inside will trouble you; but be cautious, Julie, how you venture on the street day or night." "But, monsieur"--Julie drew back--"I do not fear for myself, only for mademoiselle, and I like not to be indoors all day. The police, they will only trouble me with questions should I return to the Whitneys." "If you do not return to the Whitneys, Julie, the police will think you guilty." "Me, monsieur?" "Yes." "But--but--" stammered the Frenchwoman, overwhelmed. "I have committed no crime. I but left because I could not bear to tell what I know." "Your departure is construed as a confession of guilt." The Captain bent his handsome face nearer hers. "It is only a question, Julie, of the depth of your affection for Mademoiselle Kathleen. Are you willing to shield her at all costs?" The Frenchwoman faltered for a second, then drew herself proudly erect. "_Oui, monsieur_. Mademoiselle was kind to me when I lost all--my lover, my brothers died for France. There is no one who cares for me now but mademoiselle. I shall not betray her." "Good!" The Captain wrung her hand. "Come," and he led the way into the house. CHAPTER XV THE GAME, "I SPY"