Loupart shrugged his shoulders. "Well, we'll leave that for the moment. Just now you are going to obey me without a word or protest." Josephine's heart stopped; she knew these preambles. She tried to turn the conversation. "And how did you get here?" "How did you get here yourself?" "M. Dixon's motor-car." "And who tracked you?" "Why--no one." "No one?" jeered the ruffian. "Then what was Juve doing in the taxi which was rolling after you?" Josephine uttered an exclamation of surprise. Loupart went on, greatly satisfied with himself: "And what was Loupart up to? That crafty gentleman was cosily ensconced on the springs behind the taxi in which the worthy inspector was riding." The ruffian was teasing, and that showed he was in good humour again. Josephine put her arms round his neck and hugged him. "It's you that I love and you alone--let's go, take me away, won't you?" Loupart freed himself from the embrace. "Since you are at home here--the American said as much--I must see to profiting by it. You will stay here till this evening: at five you will be at the markets, and so shall I. You won't recognise me, but I shall speak to you, and then you will tell me exactly where this pugilist locks up his swag. I want a full plan of the house, the print of the keys, all the usual truck. This evening I shall have something new for Juve and his crew, an affair in which you will serve me." Josephine, panting, did not pay heed to this last sentence. She flushed crimson, perspiration broke out on her forehead, a great agony tightened her heart. She, so docile till then, so devoted, suddenly felt an immense scruple, an awful shame at the thought of being guilty of what her lover demanded. Against any other man, she would have obeyed, but to act in that way toward Dixon, who had treated her so considerately, she felt was beyond her powers. Here Josephine showed herself truly a woman. While determined not to be false to Loupart, she would not leave the pugilist with an evil memory of her. She hesitated to betray him and unwittingly proved the truth of the philosopher's dictum: "The most honest of women, though unwilling to give hope, is never sorry to leave behind her a regret!" But Loupart was not going to stay discussing such subtleties with his mistress. He never gave his orders twice. To seal the reconciliation he imprinted a hasty kiss on Josephine's cheek and vanished. A sound of crackling marked his passage through the thickets. Josephine was once more alone in the great park around the villa. * * * * * Fandor and Dixon were taking tea in the drawing-room. The journalist came, he alleged, to interview Dixon about his fight with Joe Sans, the negro champion of the Soudan, which was to come off next day. After getting various details as to weight, diet and other trifles, Fandor inquired with a smile: "But to keep in good form, Dixon, you must be as sober as a camel, as chaste as a monk, eh?"