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She rose then and spoke to the chauffeur.

“M. Boreski says your spies are dogging us and that the streets are alive with them.”

“That is M. Boreski?” I asked indicating the chauffeur.

“Yes, that is M. Boreski. We anticipated there would be treachery of the kind.” There was again a spice of contempt in her tone.

“So far as I am concerned your suspicions are unwarranted, mademoiselle. I have been badly served, and some one shall suffer for it. But what do you propose?”

“Will you change from this carriage into another with me, leaving this to be followed by your police?”

There was the same touch of scorn in her manner.

“Certainly I will not if you continue to doubt my personal good faith. I will return to the Palace and leave the thing to be arranged in some other way. Otherwise, I am, as I said, absolutely in your hands.”

“I am convinced and ashamed of my doubts. Please forgive me.” She spoke quickly and eagerly.

“Then let us make the change as soon as you will.”

She spoke again to Boreski, and the machine gave a spurt forward as he increased the speed until we were flying along at a rate that made conversation almost impossible.