"What did you tell her?"

"What do you think?" He took out a thin cigar from his coat: rodents toying with a snake. "I shall be frank with you, monsieur. Margaretha Zelle is a very lovely woman. I'm sure she is also very accomodating. At the moment, however, she is in a great deal of trouble."

"And is that what you told her? That she's in a great deal of trouble?"

Cazeaux had bit off the end of the cigar. "Personally I think all this espionage business is farfetched. Your Mata Hari strikes me as a bit obvious to be a German spy. Although I suppose that could be a tactic. Still, as you people say, it seems too clever by half. In any case, it seems that our respective governments feel differently."

"So what did you tell her, Cazeaux?"

"I told her what I am telling you now. She is under grave suspicion and is not to be trusted until such time as she demonstrates her loyalty."

"By doing what?"

"An errand in Madrid. Monsieur, let us be honest with one another. Your government has ideas about how this woman should be investigated. My government felt that these methods were too slow ... too passive. Consequently I was instructed to—how do you say? —raise the temperature a little."

"What did you tell her to do?"

"The German spymaster of Berlin, Rudolph Spangler, has a man in Madrid. Name is von Kalle. I've never actually met the fellow but apparently he is like his chief in certain respects. That is to say, von Kalle is also very fond of beautiful women. Now we thought it would be very interesting to see what happens if your Mata Hari and this von Kalle were to meet ..."

"So you sent her to sleep with him, is that it?"

"Please, monsieur, I merely suggested that if she were to gain his confidence based on her earlier friendship with Herr Spangler, and then to exploit that confidence on behalf of the French government . . . well, obviously, we—my superiors—would see her in a more favorable light."

"Who told you to do this?"

"I can't say."

Gray had taken a mouthful of rum without realizing it. His hand had simply slid to the glass, then the glass to his lips—rum, which it seemed they always doled out before a bad show. He hated the stuff.

"Listen to me, monsieur, I am merely a go-between in this matter. However, it is my strong recommendation that you stay out of it. Yes, I think this would be my advice to you—stay out of it."

"Cazeaux, I think you're lying. I think you've been lying to me, and you lied to Zelle. You sent her to von Kalle because your fop organization doesn't have enough rope to hang her."

"This is very thin ice you are now walking on, monsieur."