tor with a new interest.

"You are M. Gaston Max!" he said, fixing his gray eyes upon the face of
the man before him. "I understood my daughter to say"...

Max waved his hands, deprecatingly.

"It is in the first place to apologize," he explained, "that I am here.
I was presented to your daughter in the name of Gaston--which is at
least part of my own name--and because other interests were involved I
found myself in the painful position of being presented to you under the
same false colors"...

"Oh, dear, dear!" began Cumberly. "But--"

"Ah! I protest, it is true," continued Max with an inimitable movement
of the shoulder; "and I regret it; but in my profession"...

"Which you adorn, monsieur," injected Cumberly.

"Many thanks--but in my profession these little annoyances sometimes
occur. At the earliest suitable occasion, I shall reveal myself to
Miss Cumberly and Miss Ryland, but at present,"--he spread his palms
eloquently, and raised his eyebrows--"morbleu! it is impossible."

"Certainly; I quite understand that. Your visit to London is a
professional one? I am more than delighted to have met you, M. Max; your
work on criminal anthroposcopy has an honored place on my shelves."

Again M. Max delivered himself of the deprecatory wave.

"You cover me with confusion," he protested; "for I fear in that book
I have intruded upon sciences of which I know nothing, and of which you
know much."

"On the contrary, you have contributed to those sciences, M. Max,"
declared the physician; "and now, do I understand that the object of
your call this morning?"...

"In the first place it was to excuse myself--but in the second place, I
come to ask your help."

He seated himself in a deep armchair--bending forward, and fixing his
dark, penetrating eyes upon the physician. Cumberly, turning his own
chair slightly, evinced the greatest interest in M. Max's disclosures.

"If you have been in Paris lately," continued the detective, "you will
possibly have availed yourself of the opportunity--since another may not
occur--of visiting the house of the famous magician, Cagliostro, on the
corner of Rue St. Claude, and Boulevard Beaumarchais"...

"I have not been in Paris for over two years," said Cumberly, "nor was I
aware that a house of that celebrated charlatan remained extant."

"Ah! Dr. Cumberly, your judgment of Cagliostro is a harsh one. We have
no time for such discussion now, but I should like to debate with you
thi