of
grasping realities.

After thinking a long while over the business, while he was undressing
to go to bed in the sleeping-car, Caesar said:

"There is only one thing to find out. Who is the Minister's broker in
Paris, and who is his banker? With Yarza's assistance that is not going
to be difficult for me to ascertain. When we know what broker he works
through and what banker, the affair is finished."

Having concluded thus, he got into his berth, put out the light, and lay
there dozing.

IN PARIS

On arriving at Paris next evening, he left his luggage in the hotel at
the Quai d'Orsay station. He wired his address to the Minister and to
Alzugaray, and went out at once to look for Carlos Yarza. He was unable
to find him until very late at night. He explained to his friend what
had brought him, and Yarza told him he was at his disposition.

"When you need me, let me know."

"Good."

Caesar went off to bed, and the next morning he proceeded to the
banking-house in the Rue de Provence where he was to cash the cheque
handed him by the Minister of the Treasury.

He entered the bank and asked for the president. A clerk came out and
Caesar explained to him that on arriving at his hotel he had missed a
cheque for three thousand francs from the Spanish Minister of Finance.
He introduced himself as a Deputy, as an intimate friend of the
Minister's, and behaved as if much vexed. The department manager told
him that they could do no more than take the number and not pay the
cheque if anybody presented it for payment.

"You don't handle the Minister's business here?" asked Caesar.

"No, only very rarely," said the manager.

"You don't know who his regular banker is?"

"No; I will ask, because it is very possible that the chief may know."

The clerk went out and came back a little later, informing Caesar that
they said the house the Spanish Minister of Finance did his banking with
was Recquillart and Company, Rue Bergere.

The street was near at hand, and it took Caesar only a very little while
to get there. The building was dark, lighted by electricity even in the
daytime, one of those classic corners where Jewish usurers amass great
fortunes.

There was no question of employing the same ruse as in the Rue de
Provence, and Caesar thought of another.

He asked for M. Recquillart, and out came a heavy gentleman, a blond
going grey, with a rosy cranium and gold eyeglasses.

Caesar told him he was secretary