hought he recognized the
man to whom the Frenchman in the train had spoken. By this time many
other cabs were dashing out of the station-yard, so Brett took the
chance that he might be hopelessly wrong.

He hailed a third vehicle and told the driver to follow the other two,
which were now some distance down the Rue Lafayette. Not until the three
cabs had crossed the Place de l'Opera and passed the Madeleine could
Brett be certain that the occupant of the second was following his
friend Gaultier. Then he chuckled to himself, for this was surely a rare
stroke of luck.

Quickly reviewing the possibilities of the affair, he came to the
conclusion that the travelling Frenchman really understood little, if
any, English, but that he had caught the name of the fugitive from the
Sultan's wrath and had forthwith betrayed an interest in their
conversation which was, to say the least, remarkable. At the exit from
the Gare du Nord the stranger had readily enough ascertained Brett's
destination, but he clearly regarded it as important that Gaultier--the
man who claimed Hussein-ul-Mulk as a friend--should be tracked, and had
given the necessary instructions to the confederate who awaited his
arrival.

Although Gaultier had not said as much, Brett guessed that his
destination was the British Embassy in the Rue du Faubourg St. Honore.
The route followed by the cabman led straight to that well-known
locality. The Frenchman in the second cab evidently thought likewise,
for, at the corner of the Rue Boissy he pulled up, and Brett was just in
time to give his driver instructions to go ahead and thus avoid
attracting undue notice to himself.

Gaultier turned into the Embassy, and Brett himself halted a little
further on. Dismissing his _cocher_ with a liberal fare, he walked
rapidly back, and saw the spy enter into conversation with the night
porter on duty. The latter personage, however, was clearly a trustworthy
official, for he loudly told the other to be off and attend to his own
affairs.

Then followed a most exciting and perplexing chase through many streets,
and it was only by the exercise of the utmost discretion that Brett
finally located his man at a definite number in the Rue Barbette, a tiny
thoroughfare in the Temple district.

By this time dawn was advancing over Paris, and the streets were
beginning to fill with early workers. He inquired from a passer-by the
most likely locality in which he could find a cab, and the m