KINDELL'S DINNER WITH the Thurlows was not an entire success, for which there were more causes than one.

Had he been directly asked, he would not have denied that the Blinkwells had entertained him for tea, but he was unaware that Irene had happened to see him enter the suite on the floor below, and that her father had seen him leave more than an hour and a half later. Following a morning spent with Myra among Paris shops, this seemed to suggest a degree of intimacy which exceeded fact, and its apparent significance was not lessened when an allusion was made to which he might have replied more frankly had he guessed how much was already known. As it was, his reticence gave the event a false importance, different from, if not greater than, that which it really had.

With no entirely convincing reason for his withdrawal, he left almost as soon as dinner was over, both host and hostess dismissing him with a degree of coolness he had not experienced previously. Irene was vexed by the doubt which is more fretting than certainty. Her father felt the resentment of one whose hospitality is casually received, and, more consciously, of one whose daughter is too lightly esteemed.

Besides that, he had a quick sympathy with Irene's feelings the understanding between them having the closeness which will come of single association. It led him, before Kindell had reached the lift, to the irritable exclamation:

"What, in the name of Satan, the young fool can see in that coarse-faced Jewess - - "

To which Irene aware of implications her pride would not consent to see, replied lightly: "Oh, I don't know! There's a lot of men who don't like short weight in a wife. But I'd say she'll cost him something to keep."

His mind very far from any question of feeding Myra, either as a wife or in any other capacity, Kindell walked sharply to the next comer, and stood there until a vehicle drew up at the pavement. It was a taxi for public hire, but no word passed between him and the driver as he got in, and he left it, half an hour later, in the same manner, without tendering or being asked for a fare.

He alighted in a quiet road, opposite a small gate that broke the line of a high dark hedge, and walked, as one who had been before, up a straight path that lengthened narrowly beneath meeting boughs, crossed a wide lawn, and came to the back of a house, isolated in its own grounds, which showed a solitary obscured light at the ground floor level.

Making straight to this, he tapped a short Morse signal on the french window, which promptly opened a sufficient space to admit him.

Blinking in the bright light as the window-curtains fell into place, he shook hands with a short, rather plump Frenchman, who greeted him with an official brusqueness which was habit, and a courtesy of more personal kind.

With an abrupt gesture he directed his guest to a fireside chair opposite his own. He indicated wine and cigars on a low table at Kindell's side. Almost at the same instant his words turned to the business upon their minds.

His glance, bright and sharp, read Kindell's face as he asked: "You bring news? You will land the fish?"

He spoke in English, of which he had idiomatic control, only accent and an occasional idiosyncrasy of construction showing that he was using a foreign tongue.

"Yes. That's how it looks to me."

Concisely but fully, Kindell told of Myra's request, and of the parcel which she had asked him to take to England.

Henri Reynard, normally an excitable and voluble man, could control his speech at the right times. Had it been otherwise, he would not have risen to be a departmental head of the Bureau de S?ret?, nor would he have been the police official of all Europe most dreaded by the international criminals it was his special business to foil and catch.

Now he listened with silent, concentrated attention till the tale was told. Then he asked, but not as one who is interested in the reply: "You think it is as simple as that? . . . Well, who knows!" He became silent, gnawing a moustache which seemed a size too large for its owner's mouth, as his habit was. He muttered, "Toujours la femme," but not as one to whom conviction easily came.

Kindall saw that his narrative had roused doubt rather than satisfaction. He answered: "Well, that's what the facts are. It looks a walkover now to me, unless they get frightened, and jib. If you think that's likely, I suppose it would be better to raid them at once, while the parcel's there. But I don't see why they should. They must have been very sure of me before - - "

His words ceased as he saw that Reynard was giving little attention as he chewed the doubt in his own mind. Kindell thought the little Frenchman to be theatrical in his manners, and over-elaborate in his methods.

He thought the way in which they met to be of a melodramatic quality beyond anything which the occasion required. English police methods, he would have said, are no less effective because they move along straighter paths. But he knew Reynard's reputation, and paid him the respect which achievements earn. He became silent also, until the French police officer gave him a belated reply.

"Raid Blinkwell's suite now? But I should say not! If they really trust you, it would be a rotten mistake; and a lot worse if they don't. No, we must go on. Let the woman know that you'll see her through; and fall in with her own plans. That shouldn't be hard to do."

There was nothing discourteous in this, either in words or tone but there came an uneasy doubt to Kindell's mind. Was there an underlying sarcasm, as though Reynard thought that hard things were beyond his power? It seemed undeserved. So far he had done all that he had been asked, and had reported success. Reynard asked abruptly, "Blinkwell knows you're a friend of the Thurlows?"

"Yes. I believe he does. Myra knows."

"And she hasn't asked you to use them for this?"

"No. It hasn't been mentioned at all."

"Well, there's time yet."

"You mean that the Thurlows' baggage wouldn't be opened?"

Reynard was precise. "They are not entitled to take anything dutiable through our Customs because he is an ambassador to a third Power, but it is extremely unlikely that they would attempt any serious smuggling, and their declarations would normally be accepted without much interference. if any, with the contents of their trunks. Going back to England, it is unlikely that they would be challenged by suppose that mine would be examined in the usual way? It seems to me that they are taking a great risk."

"Yes. You see that." (Was there sarcasm in this wording again? It was hard to say.)

"Of course, they may think that I shouldn't be under suspicion, and more likely - - "

"Then they must think they are under no suspicion themselves. Otherwise, having been associated with them - - "

"Still - if they're cornered, it may be the best they can do."

"Yes," Reynard agreed; "we must hope it is." But there was no conviction in his voice.

"Anyhow, I'm to carry on, even if I'm to be the fool of the piece?"

A gleam of appreciative humour came into the Frenchman's eyes. His thought was - how hard it is to tell how dull these stolid English actually are! He said cordially, "Oh, but you won't be that! You do your part well."

Kindell got up to go, but learnt that he would have to stay ten minutes longer, after which he must walk away from the gate, taking a left-hand way, until a taxi should pick him up, as, at that time, it would be certain to do. Well, everyone to his own methods! With a word of polite recognition of the precautions with which the secrecy of his movements was guarded, he accepted the plan.