a fearful and wonderful
thing is the English police system. A crime, obviously clever in its
conception and treatment, can be handled by a sharp policeman wearing
regulation boots and armed with handcuffs. Really, I must have a drink."

Clinging to the hand-rails and executing some crude but effective
balancing feats, he reached the dining saloon, which was woefully
denuded of occupants, for the English Channel that night had sternly set
its face against the indiscriminate use of cold ham and pickles.

Near the bar, however, solemnly digesting a liqueur, stood a man to whom
the choppy sea evidently gave no concern. He had the square shoulders,
neat-fitting clothes and closely clipped appearance at the back of the
neck which mark the British officer; but he also stood square on his
feet and swayed with unconscious ease whether the vessel pitched or
rolled or executed the combined movement.

"Now, I wonder," said Brett, "if that is Captain Gaultier. He must be.
Gaultier, from his name, should be a Jersey man, hence his facility in
foreign languages and his employment as a Foreign Office messenger. It's
worth trying. I will make the experiment."

He reached the bar and ordered a whisky and soda. Turning affably to the
stranger, he remarked--

"Nasty night, isn't it? I hope we shan't be much behind time."

The stranger glanced at him with sharp and inquisitive eyes, but the
glance evidently reassured him, for he replied quite pleasantly--

"Oh, no. A matter of a few minutes, perhaps. They usually manage to make
up any delay after we leave Calais."

"That's good," said Brett, "because I want to be in Paris at the
earliest possible moment."

The other man smiled.

"We are due there at 5.38," he said. "Rather an early hour for business,
isn't it?"

"Well, yes," assented the barrister, "under ordinary circumstances, but
as my only business in Paris is to examine an hotel register and then
get something to eat before I return, I do not wish to waste time
unnecessarily on the road."

The other man nodded affably, but gave no sign of further interest.

"So," communed Brett, "if it be Gaultier, he has not heard the latest
developments. I must try a frontal attack."

"Does your name happen to be Gaultier?" he went on.

The stranger arrested his liqueur glass in the final tilt.

"It does," he said; "but I do not think I have the pleasure of knowing
you."

"No," said Brett, "you haven't."

"Well?" said the othe