know that this cafe, for all its outward smartness,
bears perhaps the worst reputation in Europe. I have heard of you three
many times--the 'Trinity from Hell,' they call you sometimes, I think.
You see I know where I am and the risk I run. Even this little room has
its secrets--a murder or two, I believe, and other things--secrets which
I don't suppose there is gold enough in France to buy. Well, I don't
want to buy them. You can go your way so far as I am concerned. There is
only one thing I want to know from you, and for that I offer you--the
ladies, of course, I mean--five thousand francs each."

"Five thousand francs!" Madame murmured.

Mademoiselle Flossie said nothing, but her eyes shone.

"The question, Monsieur?"

"What has become of Mademoiselle Phyllis Poynton, the young English
lady?"

The eyes of Madame seemed to narrow for a moment. Monsieur Louis lit a
cigarette with fingers which shook a little, and the fair face of
Mademoiselle Flossie was suddenly white. Then they all three looked at
one another.

"Do you know whom Monsieur may mean?"

"Not I!"

"An English girl! There are none come here."

"Mademoiselle Poynton! It is a name unheard of."

The young Englishman smiled upon them grimly.

"Madame," he said, "you have in your satchel--don't move, if you
please--a roll of French notes--indeed you must not move--very cleverly
abstracted from my pocket by my charming young companion, Mademoiselle
Flossie here. Now I have at least half a dozen friends in the cafe below
whom I could summon here by touching that bell, and the identification
of those notes would be a perfectly simple matter. Shall I do it? Or
will you earn another roll by giving me the information I seek?"

Madame leaned forward and whispered in the man's ear. Monsieur Louis
nodded.

"Tell him," Mademoiselle Flossie murmured tremulously. "Monsieur will
not break faith with us. He will not let it be known from whence he
gained the knowledge."

"Agreed!" the young Englishman declared. "Go on."

Madame held up her hand.

"I," she said, "will tell Monsieur what we know."

She rose to her feet and leaned over the table. The blue-black sequins
on her dress glittered and shone in the dull light. Her figure was
superb, her neck and bosom a flawless white. The Englishman, however,
was unmoved. His keen gray eyes were fixed upon her, but the revolver
remained in his right hand. From downstairs they could hear the music of
violins, th