Boyne was wondering how he could extricate himself from the highly perilous situation. It was evident that this shrewd Frenchman, who had so suddenly risen in the placid firmament of their future, knew something concerning the death of old Martin. How much did he know? That was the question. At first Boyne tried to fence with the pair, but soon he saw that it was of no avail. They both laughed at him openly, and it was clear that they had been watching him for several days. "Now," slid Galtier, as they halted upon the pavement opposite the Hyde Park tube station "what are you going to do? Will you take us back to Madame, or are you going to lie to us further? Now then!" Boyne saw himself at a dead end. He had never dreamed that the smart French girl of Melun, who had been paid so handsomely by Ena, would again resume her claims. But, of course, the man Galtier was behind her and had, no doubt, prompted her. Fortunately, they could know nothing of the Morrison affair—or, indeed, of the clever plots which they were conducting against other perfectly innocent victims. Life assurance is always a gamble, but when one can guarantee death within dates then one holds a winning hand every time. "Madame isn’t at home," repeated Boyne sulkily. "Call there on Monday. She’ll be back then." "No, my dear M’sieur Bennett," replied the clerk from the Mairie of Chantilly. "If we call then she will have gone, and so will your wife." And he laughed lightly. "You see, I haven’t been in London all these weeks without discovering something about all three of you!" "But I don’t see why you should come over from France to pry into our affairs. What can it benefit you?" asked Boyne, who, though excited, kept cool with difficulty. "Oh! never fear, it will benefit us. We know how and why old Mr. Martin died so unexpectedly in Chiswick. We shall also know, ere long, how other insured persons have died, _mon cher ami_. So we had better turn back and have a little business chat with Céline’s late mistress, and with your wife. That, perhaps, will clear the atmosphere." "Ah! I see you want money! Both of you—eh?" snapped Boyne. "Possibly," was the hesitating reply. "But perhaps it would be to our better advantage to tell the police what we know." "That’s a threat!" cried Boyne indignantly. "I allow no man to threaten me!" he declared boldly. "Go back to Madame’s house. You are welcome. I am not her keeper." "I would prefer to deal with you first, M’sieur Bennett." "I don’t want to have any dealings with a person who holds out threats," was his answer. "Madame paid Céline because she dismissed her without notice," he went on carelessly. "Just act as you wish. And I wish you joy. But please don’t bother me further." He was turning away when the Frenchman rushed after him, and stood on the pavement before him. "Is this your final decision?" he asked fiercely, as he barred Boyne’s way.