'Beware of
imitations,' said the advertisement; 'none genuine without a facsimile
of the signature of Bentham Gibbes.' Ah, well, not for me were either
the pickles or the tracking of imitators. A forged cheque! yes, if you
like, but the forged signature of Mr. Gibbes on a pickle bottle was out
of my line. Nevertheless, I said to Armand:--

'Show the gentleman in,' and he did so.

To my astonishment there entered a young man, quite correctly dressed
in the dark frock-coat, faultless waistcoat and trousers that
proclaimed a Bond Street tailor. When he spoke his voice and language
were those of a gentleman.

'Monsieur Valmont?' he inquired.

'At your service,' I replied, bowing and waving my hand as Armand
placed a chair for him, and withdrew.

'I am a barrister with chambers in the Temple,' began Mr. Gibbes, 'and
for some days a matter has been troubling me about which I have now
come to seek your advice, your name having been suggested by a friend
in whom I confided.'

'Am I acquainted with him?' I asked.

'I think not,' replied Mr. Gibbes; 'he also is a barrister with
chambers in the same building as my own. Lionel Dacre is his name.'

'I never heard of him.'

'Very likely not. Nevertheless, he recommended you as a man who could
keep his own counsel, and if you take up this case I desire the utmost
secrecy preserved, whatever may be the outcome.'

I bowed, but made no protestation. Secrecy is a matter of course with
me.

The Englishman paused for a few moments as if he expected fervent
assurances; then went on with no trace of disappointment on his
countenance at not receiving them.

'On the night of the twenty-third, I gave a little dinner to six
friends of mine in my own rooms. I may say that so far as I am aware
they are all gentlemen of unimpeachable character. On the night of the
dinner I was detained later than I expected at a reception, and in
driving to the Temple was still further delayed by a block of traffic
in Piccadilly, so that when I arrived at my chambers there was barely
time for me to dress and receive my guests. My man Johnson had
everything laid out ready for me in my dressing-room, and as I passed
through to it I hurriedly flung off the coat I was wearing and
carelessly left it hanging over the back of a chair in the
dining-room, where neither Johnson nor myself noticed it until my
attention was called to it after the dinner was over, and everyone
rather jolly with wine.

'This co