y upon vintages, my gastronomic good angel, was one of a band
of conspirators, who played with life and death as though they had
been the balls of a juggler? Was I to believe that there existed even
in this very hotel, which for years had been my home, the seeds of
these real tragical happenings which sometimes, though only half
disclosed, blaze out upon the world as a revelation of the great
underground world of crime? I found it almost impossible to take Louis
seriously. I could not focus my thoughts.

"Louis," I said, "is this a great joke, or are you talking to me in
sober, serious earnest?"

"I am talking in earnest, monsieur," Louis said slowly. "I have not
exaggerated or spoken a word to you which is not the truth."

"Let me understand this thing a little more clearly," I said. "What
has Ferdinand Delora done that he need fear a murderous assault? What
has he done to make enemies? Is he a criminal, or are those who seek
him criminals?"

"He carries with him," Louis said slowly, "a secret which will produce
a great fortune. There are others who think that they have a right to
share in it. It is those others who are his enemies. It is those
others who hope to attain by force what they could gain by no other
means."

A sudden inspiration prompted my next question.

"Was Tapilow one of those?" I demanded.

Louis nodded gravely.

"Monsieur Tapilow was one of those who claimed a share, but he was not
willing to run the smallest risk," he assented.

"And for that reason," I remarked, "he is well out of the way! I
understand. There is one more question, Louis, and it is one which you
must answer me truthfully. You can imagine what it is when I tell you
that it concerns mademoiselle!"

"Mademoiselle is innocent of the knowledge of any of these things,"
Louis declared earnestly. "She is a very charming and a very beautiful
young lady, but if ever a young lady needed friends, she does!"

"Why is she here at all?" I demanded. "Why was she not left behind in
Paris? If there is no part for her to play in this little comedy, it
seems to me that she would have been much better out of the way."

"Captain Rotherby," Louis said, "there was a reason, and some day you
will understand it--why it was necessary that she should come to
London with her uncle. I can tell you no more. You must not ask me any
more."

I looked into Louis' impenetrable face. I could learn nothing
there. His words had left me partly unconvinced