e floor,
very pale, and apparently only half-conscious, lay Peter Ruff. There was
a strong smell of chloroform about. John Dory threw open the window. His
fingers trembled a little. It was like Fate--this! At the end of every
unsuccessful effort there was this man--Peter Ruff!

"What the devil are you doing here?" he asked.

Peter Ruff groaned.

"Help me up," he begged, "and give me a little brandy."

Antoine set him in an easy-chair and rang the bell furiously.

"It will come directly!" he exclaimed. "But who are you?"

Peter Ruff waited for the brandy. When he had sipped it, he drew a
little breath as though of relief.

"I heard," he said, speaking still with an evident effort, "that
Lemaitre was here. I had secret information. I thought at first that I
would let you know--I sent you a note early this morning. Afterwards, I
discovered that there was a reward, and I determined to track him down
myself. He was in here hiding as a sick waiter. I do not think," Peter
Ruff added, "that Monsieur Antoine had any idea. I presented myself as
representing a charitable society, and I was shown here to visit him. He
was too clever, though, was Jean Lemaitre--too quick for me."

"You were a fool to come alone!" John Dory said. "Don't you know the
man's record? How long ago did he leave?"

"About ten minutes," Peter Ruff answered. "You must have missed him
somewhere as you came up. I crawled to the window and I watched him go.
He left the restaurant by the side entrance, and took a taxicab at the
corner there. It went northward toward New Oxford Street."

Dory turned on his heel--they heard him descending the stairs. Peter
Ruff rose to his feet.

"I am afraid," he said, as he plunged his head into a basin of water,
and came into the middle of the room rubbing it vigorously with a small
towel, "I am afraid that our friend John Dory will get to dislike me
soon! He passed out unnoticed, eh, Antoine?"

Antoine's face wore a look of great relief.

"There was not a soul who looked," he said. "We passed under the nose of
the gentleman from Scotland Yard. He sat there reading his paper; and he
had no idea. I watched Jean step into the motor. Even by now he is well
on his way southwards. Twice he changes from motor to train, and back.
They will never trace him."

Peter Ruff, who was looking amazingly better, sipped a further glass of
liqueur. Together he and Antoine descended to the street.

"Mind," Peter Ruff whispered, "