would not be convenient.
Tell your chauffeur, Draconmeyer, to take us direct to the rendezvous.
We can at least watch the people there. One is always amused. We will
forget our nervous friend. These little touches, Draconmeyer, my man,
they mark the man of genius, mind you. Did you notice how his eyes lit
up when I whispered that one word 'Egypt'? It is a great game when you
bait your hook with men and fish for empires!"

Draconmeyer gave an instruction to his chauffeur and leaned back.

"If we succeed,--" he began.

"Succeed?" Selingman interrupted. "Why, man alive, he is on our hooks
already! Be at rest, my friend. The affair is half arranged. It remains
only with us to deal with one man."

Draconmeyer's eyes sparkled beneath his spectacles. A slow smile crept
over his white face.

"You are right," he agreed. "That man is best out of the way. If he and
Douaille should meet--"

"They shall not meet," Selingman thundered. "I, Selingman, declare it.
We are here already. Good! The aspect of the place pleases me."

The two men, arriving so early, received the distinguished consideration
of a bowing maitre d'hotel as they entered the Austria. They were
ushered at once to a round table in a favourable position. Selingman
surrendered his hat and coat to the obsequious vestiaire, pulled down
his waistcoat with a familiar gesture, spread his pudgy hands upon the
table and looked around him with a smile of benevolent approval.

"I shall amuse myself here," he declared confidently. "Pass the menu to
me, Draconmeyer. You have no more idea how to eat than a rabbit. That is
why you suffer from indigestion. At this hour--why, it is not midnight
yet--one needs sustenance--sustenance, mark you, intelligently selected,
something nourishing yet not heavy. A sheet of paper, waiter. You see, I
like to write out my dishes. It saves trouble and there are no
disappointments, nothing is forgotten. As to the wine, show me the
vintage champagnes.... So! You need not hurry with the meal. We shall
spend some time here."

Draconmeyer arrested the much impressed maitre d'hotel as he was
hurrying away.

"Is there dancing here to-night?" he enquired.

"But certainly, monsieur," the man replied. "A Spanish lady, altogether
ravishing, the equal of Otero at her best--Signorina Melita."

"She dances alone?"

"By no means. There is the young Frenchman, Jean Coulois, who is engaged
for the season. A wonderful pair, indeed! When May comes, t