"France, England, Russia, and Italy are closed to you. Without doubt you understand that. Also, doubtless you have no desire to venture into Germany, Austria, Bulgaria, or Turkey. Scandinavia remains open to you, and practically no other country except Spain, because we do not permit you to go to Mexico or to Central or South America. Do you comprehend? _We_ do not permit it.

"Therefore, hold your tongue and control your _furor scribendi_ while in New York. And make arrangements to take the next Danish steamer for Christiania.

"This is a friendly warning. For if you are still here in the United States two weeks after you have received this letter, other measures will be taken in your regard which will effectually dispose of your troublesome presence.

"The necessity which forces us to radical action in this affair is regrettable, but entirely your own fault.

"You have, from time to time during the last two years, received from us overtures of an amicable nature. You have been approached with discretion and have been offered every necessary guarantee to cover an understanding with us.

"You have treated our advances with frivolity and contempt. And what have you gained by your defiance?

"Our patience and good nature has reached its limits. We shall ask nothing further of you; we deliver you our orders hereafter. And our orders are to leave New York immediately.

"Yet, even now, at the eleventh hour, it may not be too late for us to come to some understanding if you change your att.i.tude entirely and show a proper willingness to negotiate with us in all good faith.

"But that must be accomplished within the two weeks' grace given you before you depart.

"You know how to proceed. If you try to play us false you had better not have been born. If you deal honestly with us your troubles are over.

"This is final.

"THE WATCHER."

XVI

THE WATCHER

"The Watcher," repeated Barres, studying the typewritten signature for a moment longer. Then he looked at Westmore: "What do you think of that, Jim?"

Westmore, naturally short tempered, became very red, got to his feet, and began striding about the studio as though some sudden blaze of inward anger were driving him into violent motion.

"The thing to do," he said, "is to catch this 'Watcher' fellow and beat him up. That's the way to deal with blackmailers--catch 'em and beat 'em up--vermin of this sort--this blackmailing fraternity!--I haven't anything to do; I'll take the job!"

"We'd better talk it over first," suggested Barres. "There seem to be several ways of going about it. One way, of course, is to turn detective and follow Thessa around town. And, as you say, spot any man who dogs her and beat him up very thoroughly. That's your way, Jim.

But Thessa, unfortunately, doesn't desire to be featured, and you can't go about beating up people in the streets of New York without inviting publicity."

Westmore came back and stood near Thessalie, who looked up at him from her seat on the Chinese couch with visible interest:

"Mr. Westmore?"

"Yes?"

"Garry is quite right about the way I feel. I don't want notoriety. I can't afford it. It would mean stirring up every French Government agent here in New York. And if America should ever declare war on Germany and become an ally of France, then your own Secret Service here would instantly arrest me and probably send me to France to stand trial."

She bent her pretty head, adding in a quiet voice:

"Extradition would bring a very swift end to my career. With the lying evidence against me and a Senator of France to corroborate it by perjury--ask yourselves, gentlemen, how long it would take a military court to send me to the parade in the nearest caserne!"

"Do you mean they'd shoot you?" demanded Westmore, aghast.

"Any court-martial to-day would turn me over to a firing squad!"

"You see," said Barres, turning to Westmore, "this is a much more serious matter than a case of ordinary blackmail."

"Why not go to our own Secret Service authorities and lay the entire business before them?" asked Westmore excitedly.

But Thessalie shook her head:

"The evidence against me in Paris is overwhelming. My dossier alone, as it now stands, would surely condemn me without corroborative evidence. Your people here would never believe in me if the French Government forwarded to them a copy of my dossier from the secret archives in Paris. As for my own Government----" She merely shrugged.

Barres, much troubled, glanced from Thessalie to Westmore.

"It's rather a rotten situation," he said. "There must be, of course, some sensible way to tackle it, though I don't quite see it yet. But one thing is very plain to me: Thessa ought to remain here with us for the present. Don't you think so, Jim?"

"How can I, Garry?" she asked. "You have only one room, and I couldn't turn you out----"

"I can arrange that," interposed Westmore, turning eagerly to Barres with a significant gesture toward the door at the end of the studio.

"There's the solution, isn't it?"

"Certainly," agreed Barres; and to Thessalie, in explanation: "Westmore's two bedrooms adjoin my studio--beyond that wall. We have merely to unlock those folding doors and throw his apartment into mine, making one long suite of rooms. Then you may have my room and I'll take his spare room."

She still hesitated.

"I am very grateful, Garry, and I admit that I am becoming almost afraid to remain entirely alone, but----"

"Send for your effects," he insisted cheerfully. "Aristocrates will move my stuff into Westmore's spare room. Then you shall take my quarters and be comfortable and well guarded with Aristocrates and Selinda on one side of you, and Jim and myself just across the studio." He cast a sombre glance at Westmore: "I suppose those rats will ultimately trail her to this place."

Westmore turned to Thessalie:

"Where are your effects?" he asked.

She smiled forlornly:

"I gave up my lodgings this morning, packed everything, and came here, rather scared." A little flush came over her face and she lifted her dark eyes and met Westmore's intent gaze. "You are very kind," she said. "My trunks are at the Grand Central Station--if you desire to make up my disconcerted mind for me. Do you really want me to come here and stay a few days?"

Westmore suppressed himself no longer:

"I won't _let_ you go!" he said. "I'm worried sick about you!" And to Barres, who sat slightly amazed at his friend's warmth:

"Do you suppose any of those dirty dogs have traced the trunks?"

Thessalie said:

"I've never yet been able to conceal anything from them."