onist, tapping his coat. "I always carry
'em here." And, with that, he drew out our wallet and flung it upon
the desk.

With our Pass in his hands, the chief of the police blinked at me.

"The chassis number?" he said.

"P 1709."

Up went his eyebrows.

"And on the number-plates?"

"XD 2322."

The official folded the Pass and shook his head.

"Wrong," he said shortly.

As I stared at him, frowning--

"Yes, sonny," said the jeering voice. "An' don't go putting it up that
you're J. Mansel, 'cause the picture's against you."

With the words the truth came to me.

It was Ping--Jonah's car--that was standing without in the street.
_And I had given Pong's numbers_....

With a grin of triumph the impostor rose to his feet.

"So that's that," he drawled. "Well, I guess I'll be moving. As for
these climbers----"

"Pardon me, sir," said Berry, in pretty fair French, "but you will do
nothing of the sort." He turned to the chief of the police and
inclined his head. "I am a nobleman, and--I should like a chair."

For a moment the other stared at him; then he sent for a seat. Had I
stood in his shoes, I should have done the same. My brother-in-law's
air was irresistible.

Berry sat down carefully.

"I shall not," he said, "keep you long. This is not my car. It
belongs to my cousin, Captain Jonathan Mansel. Look at the Pass,
please, and check me. Captain Mansel was born at Guildford, Surrey, is
it not so? Good. Now I have given the birthplace." He shot out an
accusing hand. "_Ask that gentleman the date._"

For the second time the tough exploded, but with a difference. This
time the wrath was genuine, the passion real. There was something
beastly about it. Beside this paroxysm the other outburst had been
almost refined.

The official who had been about to speak looked at the fellow
curiously, and when, a moment later, the latter stretched out his hand
for the Pass, he held up a prohibitive palm.

As the storm died down--

"Good," said Berry. "The gentleman doesn't want to. The date is
December the fifteenth, 1891." He sighed profoundly. Then: "You have
a _gendarme_ here," he said musingly, "called Jean Laffargue."

The chief of the police stared.

"Yes, _Monsieur_. He is there, by the door."

Berry nodded.

"He has a twin brother, hasn't he?"

"Perfectly, _Monsieur_. He is called '_Francois._'"

"Very likely," said Berry. "Very likely. I call him _Herbert_!"

"_Monsi