She nodded to Lola as he escorted her to the lift. Lew Brady watched her with hungry eyes. “What did he mean, Lola?” asked Brady as the door closed behind the two. “That fellow knows something! There’s a mark against my name in the Frog-book! That sounds bad to me. Lola, I’m finished with these Frogs! They’re getting on my nerves.” “You’re a fool,” she said calmly. “Gordon has got just the effect he wanted—he has scared you!” “Scared?” he answered savagely. “Nothing scares me. You’re not scared because you’ve no imagination. I’m . . . not scared, but worried, because I’m beginning to see that the Frogs are bigger than I dreamt. They killed that Scotsman Maclean the other day, and they’re not going to think twice about settling with me. I’ve talked to these Frogs, Lola—they’d do anything from murder upwards. They look on the Frog as a god—he’s a religion with them! A question-mark against my name! I believe it too—I’ve talked flip about ’em, and they won’t forgive that——” “Hush!” she warned him in a low voice as the door handle turned and Ray came back. “Phew!” he said. “Thank God she’s gone! What a morning! Frogs—Frogs—Frogs! The poor fool!” Lola opened a small jewelled case and took out a cigarette and lit it, extinguishing the match with a snick of her fingers. Then she turned her beautiful eyes upon Ray. “What is the matter with the Frogs anyway?” she asked coolly. “They pay well and they ask for little.” Ray gaped at her. “You’re not working for them, are you?” he asked astonished. “Why, they’re just low tramps who murder people!” She shook her head. “Not all of them,” she corrected. “They are only the body—the big Frogs are different. I am one and Lew is one.” “What the devil are you talking about?” demanded Lew, half in fear, half in wrath. “He ought to know—and he has got to know sooner or later,” said Lola, unperturbed. “He’s too sensible a boy to imagine that the Japanese or any other embassy is paying his overhead charges. He’s a Frog.” Ray collapsed into a chair, incapable of speech. “A Frog?” he repeated mechanically. “What . . . what do you mean?” Lola laughed. “I don’t see that it is any worse being a Frog than an agent of another country, selling your own country’s secrets,” she said. “Don’t be silly, Ray! You ought to be pleased and honoured. They chose you from thousands because they wanted the right kind of intelligence . . .” And so she flattered and soothed him, until his plastic mind, wax in her hands, took another shape. “I suppose it is all right,” he said at last. “Of course, I wouldn’t do anything really bad, and I don’t approve of all this clubbing, but, as you say, the Frog can’t be responsible for all that his people do. But on one thing I’m firm, Lola! I’ll have no tattooing!” She laughed and extended her white arm. “Am I marked?” she asked. “Is Lew marked? No; the big people aren’t marked at all. Boy, you’ve a great future.” Ray took her hand and fondled it.