think I'm Sherlock
Holmes' little brother."

"If Mr. Mellin does not feel too ill," said Cornish dryly; "I know how
painful such cases sometimes--"

"No." Mellin moistened his parched lips and made a pitiful effort to
smile. "I'll be all right very soon."

"I am very sorry," began the journalist, "that I wasn't able to get a
few words with Mr. Cooley yesterday evening. Perhaps you noticed that I
tried as hard as I could, without using actual force"--he laughed--"to
detain him."

"You did your best," agreed Cooley ruefully, "and I did my worst. Nobody
ever listens till the next day!"

"Well, I'm glad no vital damage was done, anyway," said Cornish. "It
would have been pretty hard lines if you two young fellows had been
poor men, but as it is you're probably none the worse for a lesson like
this."

"You seem to think seven thousand dollars is a joke," remarked Cooley.

Cornish laughed again. "You see, it flatters me to think my time was
so valuable that a ten minutes' talk with me would have saved so much
money."

"I doubt it," said Cooley. "Ten to one we'd neither of us have believed
you--last night!"

"I doubt it, too." Cornish turned to Mellin. "I hear that you, Mr.
Mellin, are still of the opinion that you were dealing with straight
people?"

Mellin managed to whisper "Yes."

"Then," said Cornish, "I'd better tell you just what I know about it,
and you can form your own opinion as to whether I do know or not. I have
been in the newspaper business on this side for fifteen years, and my
headquarters are in Paris, where these people are very well known. The
man who calls himself 'Chandler Pedlow' was a faro-dealer for Tom Stout
in Chicago when Stout's place was broken up, a good many years ago.
There was a real Chandler Pedlow in Congress from a California district
in the early nineties, but he is dead. This man's name is Ben Welch:
he's a professional swindler; and the Englishman, Sneyd, is another; a
quiet man, not so well known as Welch, and not nearly so clever, but a
good 'feeder' for him. The very attractive Frenchwoman who calls herself
'Comtesse de Vaurigard' is generally believed to be Sneyd's wife, though
I could not take the stand on that myself. Welch is the brains of the
organization: you mightn't think it, but he's a very brilliant
man--he might have made a great reputation in business if he'd been
straight--and, with this woman's help, he's carried out some really
astonishing schemes. His