under an assumed name, on the other!"

"I am afraid I agree with you," said Cornish; "though I must say that,
from all I hear, Madame de Vaurigard might put an atmosphere about a
thing which would deceive almost any one who wasn't on his guard. When a
Parisienne of her sort is clever at all she's irresistible."

"I believe you," Cooley sighed deeply.

"Yesterday evening, Mr. Mellin," continued the journalist, "when I saw
the son of my old friend in company with Welch and Sneyd, of course I
tried to warn him. I've often seen them in Paris, though I believe they
have no knowledge of me. As I've said, they are notorious, especially
Welch, yet they have managed, so far, to avoid any difficulty with the
Paris police, and, I'm sorry to say, it might be hard to actually prove
anything against them. You couldn't _prove_ that anything was crooked
last night, for instance. For that matter, I don't suppose you want to.
Mr. Cooley wishes to accept his loss and bear it, and I take it that
that will be your attitude, too. In regard to the note you gave Sneyd,
I hope you will refuse to pay; I don't think that they would dare press
the matter."

"Neither do I," Mr. Cooley agreed. "I left a silver cigarette-case at
the apartment last night, and after talkin' to Cornish a while ago, I
sent my man for it with a note to her that'll make 'em all sit up and
take some notice. The gang's all there together, you can be sure. I
asked for Sneyd and Pedlow in the office and found they'd gone out early
this morning leavin' word they wouldn't be back till midnight. And, see
here; I know I'm easy, but somehow I believe you're even a softer piece
o' meat than I am. I want you to promise me that whatever happens you
won't pay that I O U."

Mellin moistened his lips in vain. He could not answer.

"I want you to promise me not to pay it," repeated Cooley earnestly.

"I promise," gasped Mellin.

"You won't pay it no matter what they do?"

"No."

This seemed to reassure Mr. Cooley.

"Well," he said, "I've got to hustle to get my car shipped and make the
train. Cornish has finished his job down here and he's goin' with me. I
want to get out. The whole thing's left a mighty bad taste in my mouth,
and I'd go crazy if I didn't get away from it. Why don't you jump into
your clothes and come along, too?"

"I can't."

"Well," said the young man with a sympathetic shake of the head, "you
certainly look sick. It may be better if you stay in bed til