and King's Cross just before my amazing
adventure had been simply by chance, or had it any connection between
that meeting and the trap which had, without a doubt, been so
cunningly prepared for me as I passed through Stretton Street to my
uncle's house on the following evening.

The fact that I had again met the mysterious Suzor at the Gare du
Nord, in Paris, just as I was on my way back to London to pursue
further inquiries was, in itself, suspicious. I confess that I sat
utterly bewildered. One thing was plain, namely, that he had no
suspicion that I was keeping such close observation upon Gabrielle. I
knew where she lived, and to me he had given his hotel address.

At last, after quite twenty minutes of serious conversation, the
stout, flat-footed servant returned, and after a few pleasant words
with her, Suzor rose, and raising his hat, left them.

Instantly it occurred to me that, as I knew the girl's abode, it would
be more useful perhaps to watch the movements of my friend the French
banker.

He took the path which skirted the lake, and then cut down the
straight way which leads to Alexandra Gate into Rotten Row, while I
followed him far behind though I kept him well in sight. He went
swiftly at a swinging pace, for he had apparently grown cold while
seated there in the north wind. The ground was hard and frosty, and
the sky grey and lowering, with every evidence that a snowstorm might
be expected.

He walked the whole length of Rotten Row, that leafy way which is so
animated when social London disports itself in the season, and which
on a black wintry afternoon, when the smart set are on the Riviera or
in Egypt, is so dull and deserted. At Hyde Park Corner he turned along
Piccadilly, until he hailed a passing taxi, to the driver of which he
gave deliberate instructions.

I glanced around, and very fortunately saw another disengaged taxi,
which I entered, giving the man instructions to keep the other in
view, with a promise of double fare. Instantly the man entered into
the spirit of the enterprise, and away we went towards the Circus, and
thence by way of Oxford Street to the Euston Road, where before a
small private hotel quite close to the station Suzor descended, and,
paying the man, entered.

For three hours I waited outside, but he did not emerge. Then I went
to the Carlton, and from the reception-clerk ascertained that Monsieur
Suzor was staying there, but he did not always sleep there. Sometimes