"I thought you would come," he said slowly. "In fact, I depended
upon it before I set sail from France. Ha! That relieves you, does
it not, Jason?"

Yet for some reason the statement seemed to have an opposite effect. My
uncle's heavy brows knitted together, and his mouth moved uneasily.

"See, my son, how the plot thickens," said my father, turning to me with
a pleasant smile. "And all we needed was a hero. Who will it be. I
wonder, you or your uncle?"

But my uncle did not laugh again. Instead, he squared his shoulders and
his manner became serious.

"It is not a time to jest, George," he said ominously. "Don't you
understand what you have done? But you cannot know, or else you would not
be here. You cannot know that the house is watched!"

If he had expected to surprise my father, he must have felt a poignant
disappointment; but perhaps he knew that surprise was a sentiment he
seldom permitted.

"I know," replied my father, "that since my arrival here I have been the
object of many flattering attentions. But why are you concerned, Jason? I
have broken no law of the land. I have merely mixed myself up in French
politics."

Uncle Jason made an impatient gesture.