the awkward moment by closing his eyes and passing his fingers across his brow.

"Answered it! Funny I don't remember."

The Irishman regarded him a moment soberly, and then smiled in deprecation.

"Of course—ye've slipped a cog——"

Then suddenly he clapped a hand on Horton's knee.

"Why, man alive,—Nora Burke—the Irish nurse who provides the necessary testimony—Moira's nurse, d'ye mind, when she was a baby, who saw the Duc's child die—now do ye remember——?"

Horton ran his fingers over his hair thoughtfully and bent his head again.

"Nora Burke—Moira's nurse—who saw the Duc's child die," he repeated parrot-like, "and the Duc—de Vautrin——" he muttered and paused.

"Thinks his child by this early marriage is still alive——" said Quinlevin, regarding him dubiously.

"Yes, yes," said Horton eagerly. "It's coming back to me now. And de Vautrin's money——"

"He'll pay through the nose to keep the thing quiet—unless——"

Barry Quinlevin paused.

"Unless—what?"

There was a moment of silence in which the visitor frowned out of the window.

"I don't like the look of things, I tell ye, Harry. Ye're in no fit shape to help 'til the fog clears up, but I've a mind that somebody's slipped a finger into the pie. Nora Burke wants more money—five hundred pounds to tell a straight story and where I'm going to get it—the devil himself only knows."

"Nora Burke—five hundred pounds!" muttered Horton vaguely, for he was thinking deeply, "that's a lot of money."

"Ye're right—when ye haven't got it. And de Vautrin's shutting down at the same time. It looks suspicious, I tell ye."

He broke off and fixed his iridescent gaze on Horton. "Ye're sure ye said nothing to any one in Paris before ye went to the front?"

Of this at least Jim Horton was sure.

"Nothing," he replied.

"Not to Piquette Morin?"

Here was dangerous ground again.

"Nothing," he repeated slowly, "nothing."

"And ye wouldn't be remembering it if ye had," said Quinlevin peevishly as he rose. "Oh, well—I'll have to raise this money some way or go to Galway to put the gag on Nora Burke until we play the trick——"

"I—I'm sorry I can't help——" said Horton, "but you see—I'm not——"

"Oh, yes, I see," said Quinlevin more affably. "I shouldn't be bothering ye so soon, but may the devil take me if I know which way to turn."

"Will you see de Vautrin?"

"Perhaps. But I may go to Ireland first. I've got to do some thinking—alone. Good bye. Ye're not up to the mark. Be careful when Moira comes, or ye may let the cat out of the bag. D'ye hear?"

"Don't worry—I won't," said Horton soberly.

He watched the tall figure of Quinlevin until it disappeared into the outer hall and then turned a frowning gaze out of the window.