he was examining the weapon and pulled the trigger, narrowly
escaping shooting her dead.

For a few seconds he stood upon the broad pavement. Then he drew out his
cigarette-case. In it were four cigarettes, two of which The Sparrow had
given him when in London.

"Yes," he muttered to himself. "Somebody must have given me away at
Shapley, and now they have followed me! I will act for myself, and take
the risks."

Then he walked boldly on, crossed the road, and entered the big Hotel
de Louvre et Paix. To appear unconcerned he had a drink at the bar, and
ascending in the lift, called the floor-waiter, asked for his bill, and
packed his bag.

"Ah!" he said to himself. "If I could only get to know where The Sparrow
is and ask him the truth! He may be at that address in Paris which he
gave me."

After a little delay the bill was brought and he paid it. Then in a taxi
he drove to the station where he deposited his bag in the cloak-room.

Close by the _consigne_ a woman was standing. He glanced at her, when,
to his surprise, he saw that she was the same woman who had been sitting
in the cafe with a male companion.

Was she, he wondered, in league with his so-called friend? And if so,
what was intended.

Sight of that woman lounging there, however, decided him. She was, no
doubt, awaiting his coming.

He walked out of the great railway terminus, and, inquiring the way to
the Rue Beauvau, soon found the garage where a powerful open car was
awaiting him in the roadway outside.

A smart driver in a dark overcoat came forward, and apparently
recognizing Hugh from a description that had been given to him, touched
his cap, and asked in French:

"Where does m'sieur wish to go?"

"To the station to fetch my coat and bag," replied the young Englishman,
peering into the driver's face. He was a clean-shaven man of about
forty, broad-shouldered and stalwart. Was it possible that the car had
been hired by the police, and the driver was himself a police agent?

"Very well, m'sieur," the man answered politely. And Hugh having
entered, he drove up the Boulevard de la Liberte to the Gare St.
Charles.

As he approached the _consigne_, he looked along the platform, and
there, sure enough, was the same woman on the watch, though she
pretended to be without the slightest interest in his movements.

Hugh put on his coat, and, carrying his bag, placed it in the car.

"You have your orders?" asked Hugh.

"Yes, m'sieur. We are to