't he waited to see what I would do, where
I would go, instead of taking a compartment, carefully reserving it, and
trusting to such an unlikely chance as that I might force myself into it
with him? Even if the three men had been in some obscure way playing
into each others' hands, I could not see how their game had been
arranged to catch me.

Maxine and I had talked for a long time, but not two hours had passed
yet since I saw the last of the little rat of a man in the
railway-station. Though I could not understand any reason for his
tricking me, still I told myself that nobody else could have done it,
and I decided to go back at once to the Gare du Nord. There I might
still be able to find some trace of the little man and of my two other
fellow-travellers. If through a porter or cabman I could learn where
they had gone, I might have a chance even now of getting back the stolen
treaty. I had brought with me from London a loaded revolver, warned by
the Foreign Secretary that to do so would be a wise precaution; and I
was ready to make use of it if necessary.

I was beginning to be very hungry, but that was a detail of no
importance, for I had no time to waste in eating. I went to the
railway-station and looked about until I found a porter whose face I had
seen when I got out of the train. He had, in fact, appeared under the
window of my compartment, offering himself as a luggage carrier and had
been close behind me when my late travelling companion walked by my
side. Questioned, he appeared not to remember; but his wits being
sharpened by the gift of a franc, he reflected and recalled not only my
features but the features of the little man, whom he described with
sufficient accuracy. What had become of _le petit Monsieur_ he was not
certain, but fancied he had eventually driven away in a cab accompanied
by two other gentlemen. He recollected this circumstance, because the
face of the cabman was one that he knew; and it was now again in the
station, for the _voiture_ had returned. Would he point out the _cocher_
to me? He would, and did, receiving a second franc for his pains.

The cab driver proved to be a dull and surly fellow, like many another
_cocher_ of Paris, but the clink of silver and the sight of it mellowed
him. I began by saying that I was in search of three friends of mine
whom I was to have met when the boat train came in, but whom I had
unfortunately missed. I asked him to describe the men he had driven