'un p'tit bon-homme!_ it was so. Until an hour before dawn
I crouched under that wall and saw no living thing except a very old
Chinaman who came out of one of the houses and walked slowly away.
The other houses appeared to be empty. No vehicle of any kind passed
that way all night.

Turning over in my mind the details of this most perplexing case, it
became evident to me that the advantages of working alone were now
outweighed by the disadvantages. The affair had reached a stage at
which ordinary police methods should be put into operation. I had
collected some of the threads; the next thing was for Scotland Yard
to weave these together whilst I sought for more.

I determined to remain dead. It would afford me greater freedom of
action. The disappearance of "Le Balafre" which must by this time have
been noted by his associates, might possibly lead to a suspicion that the
dead man was _not_ Gaston Max; but providing no member of "The Scorpion"
group obtained access to the body I failed to see how this suspicion
could be confirmed. I reviewed my position.

The sealed letter had achieved its purpose in part. Although I had
failed to locate the house from which these people operated, I could draw
a circle on the map within which I knew it to be; and I had learned that
Zara el-Khala and the Hindu were in London. What it all meant--to what
end "The Scorpion" was working I did not know. But having learned so
much, be sure I did not despair of learning more.

It was now imperative that I should find out exactly what had occurred
at Dr. Stuart's house. Accordingly I determined to call upon the
Inspector at Scotland Yard. I presented myself towards evening of the
day following my vigil in Limehouse, sending up the card of a Bureau
confrere, for I did not intend to let it be generally known that I was
alive.

Presently I was shown up to that bare and shining room which I
remembered having visited in the past. I stood just within the doorway,
smiling. Inspector Dunbar rose, as the constable went out, and stood
looking across at me.

I had counted on striking him dumb with astonishment. He was Scottishly
unmoved.

"Well," he said, coming forward with outstretched hand, "I'm glad to
see you. I knew you would have come to us sooner or later!"

I felt that my eyes sparkled. There was no resentment within my heart.
I rejoiced.

"Look," he continued, taking a slip of paper from his note-book. "This
is a copy of a note I left