THE TWO FRENCHMEN "You must be mad, Cyril! No sane man could have got into such a mess!" cried Guy Campbell, excitedly pounding his fat knee with his podgy hand. Cyril had been so disturbed by the finding of the Wilmersley jewels that he had at last decided that he must confide his troubles to some one. He realised that the time had come when he needed not only advice but assistance. He was now so convinced that he was being watched that he had fled to his club for safety. There, at all events, he felt comparatively safe from prying eyes, and it was there in a secluded corner that he poured his tale of woe into his friend's astonished ears. "You must be mad," the latter repeated. "If that is all you can find to say, I am sorry I told you," exclaimed Cyril irritably. "It's a jolly good thing you did! Why, you are no more fit to take care of yourself than a new-born baby." Guy's chubby face expressed such genuine concern that Cyril relaxed a little. "Perhaps I've been a bit of an ass, but really I don't see what else I could have done." "No, don't suppose you do," said Guy, regarding Cyril with pitying admiration. "Oh, don't rub it in! The question now is not what I ought to have done, but what am I to do now?" "What do you intend to do?" "I haven't the slightest idea. I want your advice." "Oh, no, you don't! Why, you wouldn't even listen to a sensible suggestion." "What do you call a sensible suggestion?" Cyril cautiously inquired. "To get the girl out of the nursing home and lose her. And it ought to be done P. D. Q., as the Americans say." "I shall certainly do nothing of the sort." "Exactly," cried Campbell triumphantly. "I know you, Lord Quixote; you have some crazy plan in your head. Out with it." "I haven't a plan, I tell you. Now as I am being followed----" "I can't believe you are," interrupted Guy. "I feel sure that that beggar I told you about was a detective." "Why?" "He was evidently waiting for me and I couldn't shake him off till he had had a good look at the jewels." "It is much more likely that he was waiting for a penny than for you, and beggars are usually persistent. I see no possible reason why the police should be shadowing you. It is your guilty conscience that makes you so suspicious." "You may be right; I certainly hope you are, but till I am sure of it, I don't dare to run the risk of being seen with Miss Prentice. As she is in no condition to go about alone, I have been worrying a good deal as to how to get her out of the Home; so I thought--it occurred to me--that--you are the person to do it." "Thanks, awfully! So you leave me the pleasant task of running off with a servant-girl who is 'wanted' by the police! You are really too unselfish!" "Miss Prentice is a lady," Cyril angrily asserted. "H'm," Campbell ejaculated skeptically. "That she is a beauty I do not doubt, and she has certainly played her cards very skilfully."