looked at him incredulously, all except Boolba, who had heard the
story before.

"An assassin?" said one. "Of what nationality?"

"American," said Yakoff, and there was a little titter of laughter.

"It is true," interrupted Boolba. "This man, whom Yakoff has found, is
what is known in New York as a gun-man. He belongs to a gang which was
hunted down by the police, and our comrade escaped."

"But an American!" persisted one of the unconvinced.

"An American," said Yakoff. "This man is desired by the police on this
side, and went in hiding with our other comrade, who recognized him."

"A gun-man," said Boolba thoughtfully, and he used the English word with
some awkwardness. "A gun-man. If he would only--is he here?" he
demanded, looking up.

Yakoff nodded.

"Does he know----"

"I have told him nothing, Excellency," said Yakoff, rising from the
table with alacrity, "except to be here, near the entrance to the club,
at this hour. Shall I bring him down?"

Boolba nodded, and three minutes later, into this queer assembly,
something of a fish out of water and wholly out of his element, strode
Cherry Bim, that redoubtable man.

He was a little, man, stoutly built and meanly dressed. He had a fat,
good-humoured face and a slight moustache, and eyes that seemed laughing
all the time.

Despite the coldness of the night, he wore no waistcoat, and as a
protest against the conventions he had dispensed with a collar. As he
stood there, belted about his large waist, a billycock hat on the back
of his head, he looked to be anything from a broken-down publican to an
out-of-work plumber.

He certainly did not bear the impress of gun-man.

If he was out of his element, he was certainly not out of conceit with
himself. He gave a cheery little nod to every face that was turned to
him, and stood, his hands thrust through his belt, his legs wide apart,
surveying the company with a benevolent smile.

"Good evening, ladies and gents," he said. "Shake hands with Cherry Bim!
Bim on my father's side and Cherry by christening--Cherry Bim, named
after the angels." And he beamed again.

This little speech, delivered in English, was unintelligible to the
majority of those present, including Sophia Kensky, but Yakoff
translated it. Solemnly he made a circuit of the company and as solemnly
shook hands with every individual, and at last he came to Boolba; and
only then did he hesitate for a second.

Perhaps in that meeting there cam