waved him to silence. "And you needn't
charge yourself with his keep. But I hope you haven't any more skeletons
in the closet, my friend."

"Skeletons, monsieur?"

"Such as Madame Pelletan."

"Oh," said the Frenchman, naively, "Madame Pelletan iss quite t'e
opposite off a skeleton, monsieur!"

* * * * *

Rushford paused at the hotel door and looked out along the Digue. It was
thronged with people hurrying toward the Casino, eager for the night's
excitement. But the American turned in the opposite direction, and
sauntered slowly along, breathing in the cool breeze from the ocean. At
last he paused, and, leaning against the balustrade, stood gazing out
across the moonlit water, smiling to himself at thought of Pelletan's
vicissitudes.

He was roused by the sound of voices on the beach below him. He looked
down mechanically, but for a moment saw no one. Then, deep in the shadow
of the wall, he descried two figures walking slowly side by side. One
was a man and the other a woman. They were talking in a French so rapid
and idiomatic that Rushford could distinguish no word of it, except
that the man addressed his companion as Julie.

There was something strangely familiar about the figure of the man, and
as Rushford stared down at him, his vision seemed suddenly too clear and
he perceived that it was the French detective.

"Tellier prosecutes his loves," he murmured, smiling grimly to himself,
and turned back toward the hotel. There he stopped, struck by a sudden
thought. "Julie," he repeated. "Julie--where have I heard that name
recently? Oh, I remember--Julie is our maid at the hotel. I wonder--"

He went back abruptly to the parapet and looked over, but Tellier and
his companion had disappeared.

CHAPTER X

An Introduction and a Promenade

Warm and fair dawned the morning; and having, at its leisure, duly
arisen, bathed and breakfasted, the unemployed population of
Weet-sur-Mer, male and female, sallied forth to throng the beach and
Digue, to inhale the fresh air, to shake off so far as possible the
effects of the evening's dissipations, and to exchange such toadstool
growths of gossip as had sprung up over night.

To join this parade there presently came Lord Vernon, reclining
languidly in his invalid chair, and muffled in many rugs; but his eyes
were eagerly alert and he gazed with evident anticipation down the long
promenade of the Digue. He was attended by Blake,