losed his front door, the visitor made
straight for the little sitting-room, where our journalist usually sat,
surrounded by his books and papers.

"Ah, she seems to know my flat!" thought Fandor. The next moment he
jumped back; for, no sooner had the visitor got well into the room, than
she straightened her bent back, threw off her shawl, and dropped her
stick! Then, tearing off her grey curls and her spectacles, the visitor
revealed herself as--Juve!

Fandor burst out laughing.

"Juve! Well, I never!"

"It's Juve, all right, my boy!" cried the smiling detective, as he rid
himself of the feminine get-up which impeded his movements. "I was
pleased to see, my lad, that you did not suspect my identity until I had
thrown off this second-hand wardrobe I bulked myself out with!"

"Oh!" cried Fandor, "that's only because I hardly looked at you. If I
had, Juve, you may be sure I should have recognised you!"

"Possibly! But what do you think of the disguise?"

"Not so bad, Juve; but why did you change your sex this evening?"

"Oh, for the fun of it, and to keep my hand in ... besides, the more
precautions we take when we meet, the better. Admit for a moment that
our enemies are keeping a watch on you here: what will they recollect
about your doings this evening? Why, that Fandor, the journalist, had a
call from a lady, and that she did not leave in a hurry either!"

"Hang it all! I've no objection to a Don Juan reputation, but I may say,
without offence, that, as a woman, there's nothing particularly
attractive about you, Juve, in the garb you've just discarded!"

"Bah!" replied Juve. "You mustn't be so particular, my dear boy--as if
dress mattered--or appearance either!"

Juve was lighting a cigarette as he walked about the room, examining the
books and other objects with which Fandor had surrounded himself.

"A charming home!" murmured the detective....

Then, he inspected the contents of a little show-case, in which Fandor
had collected what he called his "Circumstantial Evidence"; in other
words, various objects relating to cases he had been engaged on, such as
scraps of clothing, blood-stained weapons, broken locks: these records
of crimes, new and old, were carefully labelled. Juve began questioning
Fandor about these sinister relics. Five minutes of jokes and laughter,
then Fandor became serious. He drew his friend to a corner settee.

"Juve," said he, in an impressive tone, "I have found the connecting
l