r you probably
know that?"

"I think I do," I returned, for some reason almost abruptly.

"She is a good girl," said Kitwater, and then took from his pocket an
envelope which he handed to me.

"By the way I brought this with me," he said, "in the hope that we
should be able to induce you to accede to our wishes. Inside you will
find a hundred-pound note, which should be sufficient to cover any
preliminary expenses. If you need more, perhaps you will be kind enough
to communicate with me at once, and it shall be sent you. A receipt can
be forwarded to me at your leisure."

I thanked him and placed the envelope upon the table. In my own mind I
felt that it would be an easy matter to guess whence the sum had come,
and for a reason that I could not then analyze, and therefore am unable
to describe, the thought irritated me.

Having assured them that the amount would be quiet sufficient, in the
event of nothing unforeseen happening, to last for some considerable
time to come, I conducted them to the door, again repeating the promise
that I would communicate with them so soon as I had anything to report.
If I had only known then, that, at the very moment when they stepped in
to the street, the man they wanted me to find for them, and whom they
hated so desperately, was standing in a shop on the other side of the
road, keeping an eye on my door, and evidently watching for their
departure, how much trouble and vexation of spirit we should all have
been saved. But I did not know this until long afterwards, and then of
course the information came too late to be of any service to us.

Next morning I was early at the office, being desirous of winding up
another little matter before I turned my attention to the new affair.
One of my subordinates had just returned from the Continent whither I
had sent him to keep an eye on a certain pseudo-French Marquis with whom
I expected to have dealings at no distant date. He reported that the
gentleman in question had broken the bank at Monte Carlo, had staked and
lost all his winnings next day, and had shot himself on the promenade on
the evening following. With his death the affair, on which I had
confidently expected to be employed, came to an end, I could not say
that I was altogether sorry.

"I shall want you to leave on Friday, Turner, for St. Petersburg," I
said, when he had finished his report and I had commented upon it. "Do
you remember Paulus Scevanovitch, who was concerned i