"Hargreave may be of great use to us, Hylda." Then, addressing me again, he said, lowering his voice and glancing at the door: "In becoming associated with 'The Golden Face,' Hargreave, you are more fortunate than you may think. He's a man who can, and who will, if he likes, help you enormously in all sorts of ways--you will find that you are more to him than a mere chauffeur. In fact, we can both help you, that is, if you fall in with our plans. Our only stipulation will be that you do what we tell you--_without asking any questions_. You understand--eh?" "I suppose," I said, smiling, "that by 'The Golden Face' you mean Mr. Rayne?" "Yes. He's called 'Golden Face' by his intimates. I forgot you didn't know. He got the nick-name through going to the Bal des Quatre Arts, here in Paris, wearing a half-mask made of beaten gold." By that time I had become convinced that both Rayne and Duperre were men with whom I should have to deal with the utmost circumspection. The only person I had met since I had engaged myself to Rayne in whom I could, I felt, place implicit confidence, was Lola. When we had finished our coffee, Duperre excused himself, saying that he had some letters to write, and suggested that his wife should accompany me for a taxi drive in the Bois. This struck us both as a pleasant manner in which to spend the afternoon, therefore Madame retired to her room, reappearing a few moments later wearing a smart cloak and a wonderful black hat adorned with three large handsome feathers. She proved herself a very amusing companion as we drove out to Armenonville, where we sat out upon the lawn, she sipping her _sirop_ while I smoked a cigarette. She knew Paris well, it seemed, and was communicative over everything--except concerning Rudolph Rayne. When I put some questions to her regarding my new employer, she simply replied: "We never discuss him, Mr. Hargreave. It is one of his rules that those who are his friends, as we are, preserve the strictest silence. What we discover from time to time we keep entirely to ourselves, and we even go to the length of disclaiming acquaintanceship with him when it becomes necessary. So it is best not to be inquisitive. If he discovers that you have been making inquiries he will be greatly annoyed." "I quite understand, Madame," I replied with a meaning smile. That she was closely connected with the deep-laid schemes of Rudolph Rayne was more than ever apparent. But why, I wondered, was Lola so palpably beneath her influence? My companion was about thirty-eight, though she looked younger, with handsome, well-cut features, and possessing the _chic_ of a woman who had traveled much and who knew how to wear her clothes. There was, however, nothing of the adventuress about her. On the contrary, she had the appearance of moving in a very select set. She was English without a doubt, but she spoke perfect French. I mentioned Lola, but she said: