The Frenchman was already being followed. " "Can I trust him?" mused Jack. Have you got someone in mind for me?" "Finish your breakfast and I'll tell you the story. Horrible doubts assailed her. In vain did the woollendraper offer to set him free if he would restore the stolen article, or give up his associate, to whom it was supposed he might have handed it. A hazy face appeared through the fog of sleep, pale and thin and looming. She looked down at him and saw that the sunlight was gleaming from his cheeks, and that all over his cheeks was a fine golden down of delicate hairs. Coffee à la Turque wasn't so bad; but a guy couldn't soak his breakfast toast in it. For a time she could scarcely believe he was gone.
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