ortant
things." He leaned out and spoke to the chauffeur, and in a moment the
car halted before a dingy little shop, on the lower floor of an old and
dilapidated-looking house. "Here is the place of Monsieur Dufrenne," he
remarked significantly.

Duvall threw open the door of the cab, and entered the dusty and
cobwebbed doorway. He found himself in a small dimly lighted room, so
crowded with curios of all sorts that he at first did not perceive the
little white-haired old man who bent over a jeweler's work bench in one
corner. The walls were lined with shelves, upon which stood bits of
ivory and porcelain, miniatures of all sorts, old pieces of silverware,
bronze and copper, old coins, and rusty antique weapons. About the walls
stood innumerable pictures, old and cracked, in dilapidated-looking
frames, while from the ceiling were suspended bits of rusty armor,
swords, brass censers, Chinese lamps, and innumerable other objects, the
use of which he could scarcely guess.

All these things he saw, in a queer jumble of impressions, as his eyes
swept the place. In a moment the little old man in the corner turned,
peering at him over his steel-rimmed spectacles. "You wish to see me,
monsieur?" he inquired in a thin, cracked voice.

"Yes. I am Richard Duvall. I come from Monsieur the Prefect of Police."

The man at the workbench, on hearing these words, rose to his
insignificant height, dropping as he did so the watch over which he had
been working. He swept his tools into a drawer with a single gesture,
turned to the wall behind him, drew on a thin gray overcoat and a dark
slouch hat, and stepped from behind the counter. "I am ready, monsieur,"
he remarked, without a trace of agitation or excitement. "Let us go."

Duvall turned to the door without further words, and threw it open. The
old man motioned to him to pass out, and after the detective had done
so, closed and locked the door carefully and followed him into the cab.
Duvall observed that he was frail, and uncertain in his steps, and so
bent from constant labor over his bench, that he gave one almost the
impression of being hunchbacked. He took his seat beside the detective
without a word, and in a moment the whole party was being driven rapidly
toward the _Gare du Nord_.

Duvall could not repress a feeling of admiration for the way in which
Dufrenne had received him. He had asked no questions, delayed him by no
preparations, but had merely thrown down his tools,