vation upon the stranger.

Had not mademoiselle declared herself to be in danger of her life? If
so, was it not possible that this fellow, whoever he was, was a secret
assassin?

I did not like the aspect of the affair at all. I ought to have warned
her against him, and I now became filled with regret. She was a complete
mystery, and as I dogged the footsteps of the unknown foreigner--for
that he undoubtedly was--I became more deeply interested in what was in
progress.

He walked to Trafalgar Square, where he hesitated in such a manner as to
show that he was not well acquainted with London. He did not know which
of the converging thoroughfares to take. At last he inquired of the
constable on point duty, and then went up St. Martin's Lane.

As soon as he had turned I approached the policeman and asked what the
stranger wanted, explaining that he was a suspicious character whom I
was following.

"'E's a Frenchman. 'E wants Burton Crescent."

"Where's that?"

"Why, just off the Euston Road--close to Judd Street. I've told 'im the
way."

I took a hansom, and drove to the place in question, a semicircle of
dark-looking, old-fashioned houses of the Bloomsbury type--most of them
let out in apartments. Then, alighting, I loitered for half an hour up
and down, to await the arrival of the stranger.

He came at last, his tall meagre figure looming dark in the lamp-light.
Very eagerly he walked round the Crescent, examining the numbers of the
houses, until he came to one, rather cleaner than the others, of which
he took careful observation.

I, too, took note of the number.

Afterwards, the stranger turned into the Euston Road, crossed to King's
Cross Station, where he sent a telegram, and then went to one of the
small uninviting private hotels in the neighbourhood. Having seen him
there, I returned to Burton Crescent, and for an hour watched the house,
wondering whether the mysterious Julie had taken up her abode there. To
me it seemed as though the stranger had overheard the directions she had
given the cabman.

The windows of the house were closed by green venetian blinds. I could
see that there were lights in most of the rooms, while over the
fan-light of the front door was a small transparent square of glass,
bearing what seemed to be the representation of some Greek saint. The
front steps were well kept, and in the deep basement was a well-lighted
kitchen.

I had been there about half an hour when the door o