"Yes," said Juliet, and putting down the receiver had begun to get ready, when she remembered the letter which ought to be left for Jack. There was no time, after all, to write details. She ought to have had the note ready for emergencies, but it hadn't occurred to her till now. Hurriedly she jotted down the address of Madame Veno and a request to Jack to send there. Then, when she had scrawled "Captain Manners, Tarascon Hotel," and sealed the envelope, the Duchess rang for her maid. "I'm going out, Simone," she said. "It's now four-thirty. If I'm not back by six-thirty it will mean that--that I must miss an appointment with Captain Manners; so at that time take this to his hotel yourself. He tells me that he's always at home between six-thirty and seven-thirty, so he's sure to be there. But if not, you can ring up Mr. Sanders at his private address, which I'll jot down for you, and ask him to call for Captain Manners' letter which concerns his business as well. I expect to come in much sooner, however--in which case you will simply hand this envelope back to me. You quite understand?" "I quite understand, _Madame la Duchesse_," echoed Simone, pinning on her mistress's hat, and handing her a pair of gloves. So well did she understand that, the moment Juliet was out of the house (the car having been ordered), she examined the back of the said envelope. In her hurry Juliet had not sealed it firmly. The flap was still wet, and came loose with almost ridiculous ease. Simone had been somewhat surprised by the Duchess's instructions (her reason for wishing to acquaint herself with the contents of the letter) but she was still more surprised by the letter itself. The Duchess was going to Madame Veno's, evidently to keep an engagement already made, and it would seem that she considered herself in some danger. Could Madame Veno mean to give away Mademoiselle Amaranthe's connection with the _Inner Circle_? Simone told herself that this was an absurd and far-fetched suspicion, because it was not probable that Madame Veno knew anything about her activities. Besides, why should the woman--even if she knew them--betray valuable secrets of the paper and its best correspondents? It was but an idea born of an uncomfortable conscience--another name for fear. Juliet was admitted to Madame Veno's flat by the respectable creature in black silk who had impressed her so favourably two days before. Again she was taken into the cubicle of a private waiting-room, and there Madame came at once, from her own room. "He's still here!" she announced, having closed the door. "Everything is wonderful--but different from what I expected." "Who is the man?" Juliet abruptly asked. "I don't know. I haven't been able yet to make him tell me that. He seemed so obstinate that I thought I'd better extract more important details first, in case in his struggles not to obey I should lose mind-control of him--which does happen now and then in such experiments."