y above his
head... "all yellow.... But roses are growing in the mud ... of the
river!"

"If you will take your bath, sir," insisted the man in black, "I shall
be ready to shave you when you return."

"Bath... shave me!"

M. Max began to rub his eyes and to stare uncomprehendingly at the
speaker.

"Yes, sir; good morning, sir,"--there was another bow and more rubbing
of palms.

"Ah!--of course! Morbleu! This is Paris...."

"No, sir, excuse me, sir, London. Bath hot or cold, sir?"

"Cold," replied M. Max, struggling upright with apparent difficulty;
"yes,--cold."

"Very good, sir. Have you brought your own razor, sir?"

"Yes, yes," muttered Max--"in the bag--in that bag."

"I will fill the bath, sir."

The bath being duly filled, M. Max, throwing about his shoulders a
magnificent silk kimono which he found upon the armchair, steered a
zigzag course to the bathroom. His tooth-brush had been put in place by
the attentive valet; there was an abundance of clean towels, soaps,
bath salts, with other necessities and luxuries of the toilet. M. Max,
following his bath, saw fit to evidence a return to mental clarity; and
whilst he was being shaved he sought to enter into conversation with the
valet. But the latter was singularly reticent, and again M. Max changed
his tactics. He perceived here a golden opportunity which he must not
allow to slip through his fingers.

"Would you like to earn a hundred pounds?" he demanded abruptly, gazing
into the beady eyes of the man bending over him.

Soames almost dropped the razor. His state of alarm was truly pitiable;
he glanced to the right, he glanced to the left, he glanced over his
shoulder, up at the ceiling and down at the floor.

"Excuse me, sir," he said, nervously; "I don't think I quite understand
you, sir?"

"It is quite simple," replied M. Max. "I asked you if you had some use
for a hundred pounds. Because if you have, I will meet you at any place
you like to mention and bring with me cash to that amount!"

"Hush, sir!--for God's sake, hush, sir!" whispered Soames.

A dew of perspiration was glistening upon his forehead, and it was
fortunate that he had finished shaving M. Max, for his hand was
trembling furiously. He made a pretense of hurrying with towels, bay
rum, and powder spray, but the beady eyes were ever glancing to right
and left and all about.

M. Max, who throughout this time had been reflecting, made a second
move.

"Another fifty, or poss