“In good spirits, I know.  But that wound—?”

Lanyard chose to make more of that than it deserved; one couldn’t tell when an interesting disability might prove useful.  “I have to be a bit careful,” he confessed, covering the seat of injury with a tender hand, “but it’s nothing like so troublesome as it was last night.”

“I am glad.  You feel able to travel?”

“Travel?” Lanyard made a face of dismay.  “But one is so delightfully at ease here, and since the Prefecture cannot possibly suspect...  Are you then in such haste to be rid of me, Liane?”

“Not at all.  It is my wish and intention to accompany you.”

“Well, let us trust the world will be broad-minded about it.  And—­pardon my not rising—­won’t you sit down and tell me what it is all about.”

“I have so little time, so many things to attend to.”

Nevertheless, Liane found herself a chair and accepted a cigarette.

“Does one infer that we start on our travels to-day?”

“Within the hour; in fact, as soon as you are decently clothed.”

“And where do we go, mademoiselle?”

“To Cherbourg, there to take steamer for New York.”

Fortunately it was Lanyard’s cue to register shock; it would have cost him something to have kept secret his stupefaction.  He sank back upon his pillows and waggled feeble hands, while his respect for Liane grew by bounds.  She had succeeded in startling and mystifying him beyond expression.

What dodge was this that cloaked itself in such anomalous semblance of good faith?  She had not known he was acquainted with her plan to leave France; he had discounted a hundred devices to keep it from his knowledge.  And now she not only confessed it openly, but invited him to go with her!  In the name of unreason—­why?  She knew, for he had owned, his possessing purpose.  He did not for an instant believe Liane Delorme would fly France and leave behind the Montalais jewels.  Did she think he did not suspect her of knowing more about them than she had chosen to admit?  Did she imagine that he was one of those who can see only that which is in the distance?  Did she do him the injustice to believe him incapable of actually smelling out the jewels if ever he got within range of them?

But conjecture was too idle, Liane was too deep for him; her intent would declare itself when she willed it, not before, unless he could lull her into a false sense of faith in him, trick her into betraying herself by inadvertence.

“But, my dear friend, why America?”

“You recall asking me to help you last night?  Did I not promise to do what I could?  Well, I am not one to forget my promise.  I know something, monsieur.”

“I believe you do!”

“You gave me credit for having some little influence in this world of Paris.  I have used it.  What I have learned—­I shall not tell you how, specifically—­enables me to assure you that the Montalais jewels are on their way to America.”