ing or convention. We are all here, as it
happens, by accident. Our friend Selingman, for instance, who is a past
master in the arts of pleasant living, has not missed a season here for
many years. Draconmeyer is also an habitue. I myself, it is true, have
spent my winters elsewhere, for various reasons, and am comparatively a
stranger, but my visit here was arranged many months ago. You yourself,
Monsieur Douaille, are a good Parisian, and no good Parisian should miss
his yearly pilgrimages to the Mecca of the pleasure-seeker. We meet
together this evening, therefore, purely as friends who have a common
interest at heart."

The man from whom this atmosphere of nervousness radiated--a man of
medium height, inclined towards corpulence, with small grey imperial, a
thin red ribbon in his buttonhole, and slightly prominent
features--promptly intervened. He had the air of a man wholly
ill-at-ease. All the time Mr. Grex had been speaking, he had been
drumming upon the table with his forefinger.

"Precisely! Precisely!" he exclaimed. "Above all things, that must be
understood. Ours is a chance meeting. My visit in these parts is in no
way connected with the correspondence I have had with one of our friends
here. Further," Monsieur Douaille continued impressively, "it must be
distinctly understood that any word I may be disposed to utter, either
in the way of statement or criticism, is wholly and entirely unofficial.
I do not even know what the subject of our discussion is to be. I
approach it with the more hesitation because I gather, from some slight
hint which has fallen from our friend here, that it deals with a scheme
which, if ever it should be carried into effect, is to the disadvantage
of a nation with whom we are at present on terms of the greatest
friendship. My presence here, except on the terms I have stated," he
concluded, his voice shaking a little, "would be an unpardonable offence
to that country."

Monsieur Douaille's somewhat laboured explanation did little to lighten
the atmosphere. It was the genius of Herr Selingman which intervened. He
leaned back in his chair and he patted his waistcoat thoughtfully.

"I have things to say," he declared, "but I cannot say them. I have
nothing to smoke--no cigarette, no cigar. I arrive here choked with
dust. As yet, the circumstance seems to have escaped our host's notice.
Ah! what is that I see?" he added, rising suddenly to his feet. "My
host, you are acquitted. I lo