ainst him
was one of murder."

"Murder!" I gasped. "I never knew that!"

"Yes--the murder of a young English statesman named Ronald Burke at a
villa near Nice. Surely you read reports of the trial?"

I confessed that I had not done so.

"Well, it was proved conclusively that he was a member of a very
dangerous gang of criminals who for several years had committed some
of the most clever and audacious thefts. The organization consisted of
over thirty men and women, of varying ages, all of them expert jewel
thieves, safe-breakers, or card-sharpers. Twice each year this
interesting company held meetings--at which every member was
present--and at such meetings certain members were allotted certain
districts, or certain profitable pieces of business. Thus, if
half-a-dozen were to-day operating in London as thieves or receivers,
they would change, and in a week would be operating in St. Petersburg,
while those from Russia would be here. So cleverly was the band
organized that it was practically impossible for the police to make
arrests. It was a more widespread and wealthy criminal organization
than has ever before been unearthed. But the arrest of your friend
Harriman, alias Bell, on a charge of murder was the means of exposing
the conspiracy, and the ultimate breaking up of the gang."

"And what of Bell?"

"He narrowly escaped the guillotine, and is now imprisoned for life at
Devil's Island."

"And you saw him with me at Paris?" I remarked, in wonder at this
strange revelation. "He certainly never struck me as an assassin. He
was a shrewd man--a swindler, no doubt, but his humorous bearing and
his good-nature were entirely opposed to the belief that his was a
sinister nature."

"Yet it was proved beyond the shadow of a doubt that he and another
man killed and robbed a young Englishman named Burke," responded the
Frenchman. "Perhaps you, yourself, had a narrow escape. Who knows? It
was no doubt lucky for you that he was arrested."

"But I understood that the charge was one of fraud," I said. "I
intended to go to the trial, but I was called to Italy."

"The charge of fraud was made in order not to alarm his accomplice,"
replied the stranger.

"How do you know that?" I inquired.

"Well"--he hesitated--"that came out at the trial. There were full
accounts of it in the Paris _Matin_."

"I don't care for reading Assize Court horrors," I replied, still
puzzled regarding my strange companion's intimate knowledge c