"You, M. de St. Genis," he said lightly, "would under like circumstances have acted just as I did, I am sure. The whole idea was so easy of execution. Half a dozen loafers to aid me, the part of highwayman to play--an old man and two or three defenceless women--my part was not heroic, I admit," he added with a smile, "but it has served its purpose. The money is safe in my keeping now, within a few days His Majesty the King of France shall have it, and all those who strive to serve him loyally can rest satisfied." "I confess I don't understand you," said St. Genis, as he seemed to shake himself free from some unexplainable spell that held him. "You have rendered us and the legitimate cause of France a signal service! Why did you do it?" "You forget, M. de St. Genis, that the legitimate cause of France is England's cause as well." "Are you a servant of your country then? I thought you were a tradesman engaged in buying gloves." Clyffurde smiled. "So I am," he said, "but even a tradesman may serve his country, if he has the opportunity." "I hope that your country will be duly grateful," said Maurice, with a sigh. "I know that every royalist in France would thank you if they knew." "By your leave, M. de St. Genis, no one in France need know anything but what you choose to tell them. . . ." "You mean . . ." "That except for reassuring M. le Comte de Cambray and . . . and Mlle. Crystal, there is no reason why they should ever know what passed between us in this room to-night." "But if the King is to have the money, he . . ." "He will never know from me, from whence it comes." "He will wish to know. . . ." "Come, M. de St. Genis," broke in Clyffurde, with a slight hint of impatience, "is it for me to tell you that Great Britain has more than one agent in France these days--that the money will reach His Majesty the King ultimately through the hands of his foreign minister M. le Comte de Jaucourt . . . and that my name will never appear in connection with the matter? . . . I am a mere servant of Great Britain--doing my duty where I can . . . nothing more." "You mean that you are in the British Secret Service? No?--Well! I don't profess to understand you English people, and you seem to me more incomprehensible than any I have known. Not that I ever believed that you were a mere tradesman. But what shall I say to M. le Comte de Cambray?" he added, after a slight pause, during which a new and strange train of thought altered the expression of wonderment on his face, to one that was undefinable, almost furtive, certainly undecided. "All you need say to M. le Comte," replied Clyffurde, with a slight tone of impatience, "is that you are personally satisfied that the money will reach His Majesty's hand safely, and in due course. At least, I presume that you are satisfied, M. de St. Genis," he continued, vaguely wondering what was going on in the young Frenchman's brain. "Yes, yes, of course I am satisfied," murmured the other, "but . . ."