asked a question. The man pointed to a train on the opposite
platform.

Was it possible that what Mademoiselle had told him had scared him?
It seemed so, for with a sudden resolve, instead of walking to the
exit he entered the booking-office and bought another ticket.

In an instant I dashed to the exit where the Spaniard was waiting, and
in a few breathless words told him of the man's intention.

To my amazement Senor Rivero heard me unmoved.

"I was awaiting you," he said. "The man you have been watching is not
Despujol at all. Despujol, whom I recognized, passed out a few moments
ago and took a cab to his house in the Rue de Lalande."

"Then you have seen him!" I gasped.

"Yes. It is Rodriquez Despujol, without a doubt, Monsieur Garfield.
You have not been mistaken, and we must certainly thank you for
putting us upon the track of this dangerous assassin."

"Then, after all, my surmise is correct! And he will go on Monday to
meet his paymaster in Nimes," I said. "The plot against me failed.
Probably a second attempt is to be made."

"We shall be careful not to be seen until he travels to Nimes,"
laughed Rivero, well satisfied at the progress he had made.

"But I wonder who is the red-faced man whom Mademoiselle has met," I
remarked. "She has evidently warned him of some danger."

"If that's so we ought to see him," my friend exclaimed. "Let us go
together on to the platform and watch. So long as Mademoiselle does
not recognize me, we are safe."

With the reassuring knowledge that the man who was being sought for by
the whole police of Europe had gone to his unsuspicious abode in the
Rue de Lalande, we returned to the far platform where a train stood
waiting to leave. It was the _rapide_ for Paris by way of Bourges. The
man was already in a third-class compartment and as he stood with his
head out of the window, Mademoiselle was chatting with him. Truly his
stay in Montauban had not been long.

The instant Rivero caught sight of the fellow's face, he exclaimed:

"Holy Madonna! Why, it is Mateo Sanz, the motor-bandit. We've been
searching everywhere for him! He shot and killed a carabineer near
Malaga a month ago!"

Next second he had left me and a few moments later hurried back. He
had bought a ticket.

"Sanz does not know me. As soon as we've left the station and are away
from Mademoiselle I shall be all right. Remain here. I will wire you,
and in any case we shall be together in Nimes on Monday. But