of the report to Fairholme.

"He is a level-headed, shrewd observer," he said--"one of the few men
whom I can trust to do exactly what I want, neither more nor less. I
think when we return to London we must endeavour to get that chain taken
off the invalid lady's door, or, at any rate, obtain some specific facts
concerning her disease from her medical adviser."

Fairholme smiled. "I am glad to hear," he cried, "that you do anticipate
our return."

"Oh," said Brett airily, "I never count on failure."

Soon after three o'clock a report arrived from the agent in the Rue du
Chaussee d'Antin. It read--

"Nothing unusual has occurred in the vicinity of the Cabaret Noir.
The customers frequenting the place are all of the ordinary type
and do not call for special comment.

"A Turkish gentleman quitted the house No. 11, Rue Barbette, at
1.15 p.m., but returned shortly before two o'clock. Half an hour
later a man, whom my assistant recognized as a member of a well-known
gang of flash thieves, entered the place. His name is Charles Petit,
but he is generally known to his associates as 'Le Ver.' He is small,
well dressed, and of youthful appearance, but really older than he
looks. He is still in the house inhabited by the Turks."

"What is the meaning of 'Le Ver'?" said Fairholme.

"It means 'The Worm,'" answered Brett.

"I must say these chaps do find suitable nicknames for one another. I
wonder if he is the fellow we followed to Montmartre this morning?"

"Possibly, though I am puzzled to understand why he should trust himself
in that hornets' nest again. Most certainly the description covers him,
but we shall probably hear more details later. I wonder where the
Turkish gentleman went whom 'Le Ver' seems to have followed. He could
not have gone to the Cabaret Noir in the time?"

Brett's curiosity was answered to some extent by the next report,
delivered about five o'clock. It read as follows--

"Le Ver is still in the house No. 11, Rue Barbette. My agent
explains that he did not follow the Turk, who left and returned
to the place earlier, because his definite instructions were not
to leave the locality, but to report on all persons who entered
or left. Absolutely nothing has transpired in this neighbourhood
since my first report.

"Gros Jean, the father of La Belle Chasseuse, arrived at the Cabaret
Noir soon after four o'clock