Raife and Gilda found time to make many excursions together, to Versailles, and various rural spots where there was, relatively, a small chance of being recognised. On these occasions there was a certain charm in Gilda's companionship which enthralled the young man, and he was quite content to suffer the ill-effects of her pernicious society. At night, in varying disguises, they spent much time at cafes, sitting at the tables of the boulevards, sipping wine and liqueurs. That waywardness, that Raife's mother had been afraid of, asserted itself, and his love of adventure led him to participate in some of the minor divertissements that the doctor planned for his own profit. In no circumstances did Raife share in the plunder of these coups, nor would he allow Gilda to act as decoy, or take active part in them. What he did was with a sense of abandoned devilment. The restraint that Raife was exercising over Gilda was weakening the doctor's power over her, and he determined that it was time for him to bring about a still more complete downfall of his enemy. Among the members of the gang who called at Raife's flat when occasion required, was an ex-officer of dragoons, who had seen some service along the north coast of Africa. He was an extraordinary mixture of braggadocio, and a certain suavity of manner which had considerable charm until it was discovered that, whereas he could swear like a trooper, he did lie like a pickpocket. In the natural sequence of events he and Raife fell foul of one another. The quarrel culminated when Raife discovered him at the flat paying court to Gilda, who resented the attentions that were being forced upon her. The combat did not last long, for Monsieur Denoir was not versed in boxing, and his incompetence was soon made evident to him. It was a dangerous thing for Raife to quarrel with a man of this type, but the whole conditions of his recent life had made him quite reckless of consequences. Monsieur Denoir, with a fine exhibition of graciousness, made amends, and awaited time and opportunity. He did not have to wait long, for he found a ready ally in the doctor. Gilda and Raife were seated at their favourite table at the Cafe Buonaventure, on a fine warm evening. Through a mirror Gilda's keen and practised eyes saw a little old gentleman with grey hair and spectacles surveying the tables. He was at the far end of the room. They were seated among a crowd of merry, talkative folk, outside the cafe. "Quick, Raife, we must go at once," she said, suddenly. With an exhibition of that cat-like speed that she displayed when she slid down the silken rope from the library window at Aldborough Park, she threw a coin on the table, and slid around a corner, half dragging him with her. "What's the matter, Gilda?" he asked. "That little `old gentleman' at the end of the room was Herrion, and I expect he's looking for you."