diplomatists
call an unfriendly act, monsieur. Now, shall we return to my office,
or go to a cafe?'

'To your office, if you please, Mr. White. I come on rather important
business.'

Entering his private office the merchant closed the door, offered me a
chair, and sat down himself by his desk. From the first he had
addressed me in French, which he spoke with an accent so pure that it
did my lonesome heart good to hear it.

'I called upon you half a dozen years ago,' he went on, 'when I was
over in Paris on a festive occasion, where I hoped to secure your
company, but I could not learn definitely whether you were still with
the Government or not.'

'It is the way of the French officialism,' I replied. 'If they knew my
whereabouts they would keep the knowledge to themselves.'

'Well, if you have been ten years in London, Monsieur Valmont, we may
now perhaps have the pleasure of claiming you as an Englishman; so I
beg you will accompany us on another festive occasion to Paris next
week. Perhaps you have seen that a number of us are going over there
to make the welkin ring.'

'Yes; I have read all about the business men's excursion to Paris, and
it is with reference to this journey that I wish to consult you,' and
here I gave Mr. White in detail the plot of the anarchists against the
growing cordiality of the two countries. The merchant listened quietly
without interruption until I had finished; then he said,--'I suppose
it will be rather useless to inform the police of Paris?'

'Indeed, Mr. White, it is the police of Paris I fear more than the
anarchists. They would resent information coming to them from the
outside, especially from an ex-official, the inference being that they
were not up to their own duties. Friction and delay would ensue until
the deed was inevitable. It is quite on the cards that the police of
Paris may have some inkling of the plot, and in that case, just before
the event, they are reasonably certain to arrest the wrong men. I
shall be moving about Paris, not as Eugene Valmont, but as Paul
Ducharme, the anarchist; therefore, there is some danger that as a
stranger and a suspect I may be laid by the heels at the critical
moment. If you would be so good as to furnish me with credentials
which I can deposit somewhere in Paris in case of need, I may thus be
able to convince the authorities that they have taken the wrong man.'

Mr. White, entirely unperturbed by the prospect of having a bomb thro