taken so much
trouble to secure the change of reservation.

And when Monsieur le Comte de Lorgnes had wavered through the gateway
in tow of a luggage-laden porter; and Dupont had torn himself away from
his fond familiar and lurched after the count; and Lanyard, after a
little wait, had followed in turn: he was able to see for himself that
Dupont had contrived to be berthed in the same carriage with de
Lorgnes; proving that he did not mean to let the count out of sight,
day or night.

Well weary, Lanyard proceeded to his own compartment, in the car ahead,
and turned in. A busy day, and not altogether unprofitable; whatever
expectations had been thwarted in this mild outcome, one had learned
much; and to-morrow one would resume the chase anew and, one rather
fancied, learn a deal more.

But he was not of those who sleep well on trains. In spite of his
extreme fatigue he woke up every time the rapide stopped. He was awake
at Dijon, at four in the morning, and again at Laroche, about a quarter
after six. There, peering out of the window to identify the station, he
was startled to see the broad, round-shouldered back of Albert Dupont
making away across the rails--leaving the train!

It was not feasible to dress and pursue, even had it been wise. And
Lanyard was vexed. Dupont, he felt, was hardly playing fair, after
giving one every reason to believe he meant to go through to Paris. And
what under heaven did the brute think to accomplish in Laroche? Was he
still after the Comte de Lorgnes? Then the latter must likewise have
fled the train! Or else ...

Something sinister in the slant of the Dupont shoulders, as he
vanished, something indescribably evil in his furtive yet heavy tread
of a beast of prey, struck a thrill of horror into the mind of Lanyard.
He shuddered, and warned himself he must learn to hold his imagination
in better check.

The newspapers of Paris, that day, had a sensation that crushed into
insignificance the news from Chateau de Montalais: in a compartment
which he had occupied alone on the night rapide from Lyons, a man had
been found with his throat cut, his clothing ripped to rags, even his
luggage slashed to ribbons.

Whether through chance or intention, every possible clue to the
victim's identity was missing.

XIII

ATHENAIS

In London, about noon of that day, a gentleman whom Lanyard most often
thought of by the name of Wertheimer deciphered a code message whose
contempt for cu