is abrupt anticlimax so suddenly that I was
taken aback. The man was watching me intently for all his apparent
nonchalance, and I felt more than ever the necessity for being on my
guard. If I could only fathom how much he knew. Of two things I felt
fairly sure: the fellow believed me to be Semlin and was under the
impression that I still retained my portion of the document. I should
have to gain time. The bargain he proposed over my half of the letter
might give me an opportunity of doing that. Moreover, I must find out
whether he really had the other half of the document, and in that case,
where he kept it.

He broke the silence.

"Well, Herr Doktor," he said, "do you want me to start the bidding? You
needn't be afraid. I am generous."

I leant forward earnestly in my chair.

"You have spoken with admirable frankness, Herr Doktor," I said, "and I
will be equally plain, but I will be brief. In the first place, I wish
to know that you are the man you profess to be: so far, you must
remember, I have only the assurance of our excitable young friend."

"Your caution is most praiseworthy," said the other, "but I should
imagine I carry my name written on my boot." And he lifted his hideous
and deformed foot.

"That is scarcely sufficient guarantee," I answered, "in a matter of
this importance. A detail like that could easily be counterfeited, or
otherwise provided for."

"My badge," and the man produced from his waistcoat pocket a silver star
identical with the one I carried on my braces, but bearing only the
letter "G" above the inscription "Abt. VII."

"That, even," I retorted, "is not conclusive."

Clubfoot's mind was extraordinarily alert, however gross and heavy his
body might be.

He paused for a moment in reflection, his hands crossed upon his great
paunch.

"Why not?" he said suddenly, reached out for his cigar-case, beside him
on the table, and produced three slips of paper highly glazed and
covered with that unforgettable, sprawling hand, a portion of a gilded
crest at the top--in short, the missing half of the document I had found
in Semlin's bag. Clubfoot held them out fanwise for me to see, but well
out of my reach, and he kept a great, spatulate thumb over the top of
the first sheet where the name of the addressee should have been.

"I trust you are now convinced, Herr Doktor," he said, with a smile that
bared his teeth, and, putting the pieces together, he folded them
across, tucked them away in