ted, "that's nonsense. He must
have been in the house, or he couldn't have killed Vantine and
Drouet."

"Who said he killed them?"

"If he didn't kill them, who did?"

Godfrey took two or three contemplative puffs, while I sat there
staring at him.

"Well," Godfrey answered, at last, "now I'm going to romance a
little. We will return to your fascinating friend, Armand, as we may
as well call him for the present. He is an extraordinary man."

"No doubt of it," I agreed.

"I can only repeat what I have said before--in my opinion, he is the
greatest criminal of modern times."

"If he is a criminal at all, he is undoubtedly a great one," I
conceded. "But it is hard for me to believe that he is a criminal.
He's the most cultured man I ever met."

"Of course he is. That's why he's so dangerous. An ignorant criminal
is never dangerous--it's the ignorant criminals who fill the prisons.
But look out for the educated, accomplished ones. It takes brains to
be a great criminal, Lester, and brains of a high order."

"But why should a man with brains be a criminal?" I queried. "If he
can earn an honest living, why should he be dishonest?"

"In the first place, most criminals are criminals from choice, not
from necessity; and with a cultured man the incentive is usually the
excitement of it. Have you ever thought what an exciting game it is,
Lester, to defy society, to break the law, to know that the odds
against you are a thousand to one, and yet to come out triumphant?
And then, I suppose, every great criminal is a little insane."

"No doubt of it," I agreed.

"Just as every absolutely honest man is a little insane," went on
Godfrey quickly. "Just as every great reformer and enthusiast is a
little insane. The sane men are the average ones, who are fairly
honest and yet tell white lies on occasion, who succumb to temptation
now and then; who temporise and compromise, and try to lead a
comfortable and quiet life. I repeat, Lester, that this fellow is a
great criminal, and that he finds life infinitely more engrossing
than either you or I. I hope I shall meet him some time--not in a
little skirmish like this, but in an out-and-out battle. Of course
I'd be routed, horse, foot and dragoons--but it certainly would be
interesting!" and he looked at me, his eyes glowing.

"It certainly would!" I agreed. "Go ahead with your romance."

"Here it is. This M. Armand is a great criminal, and has, of course,
various followers, u