een ascertained. He
deemed it best to remain hidden--for obvious reasons," laughed my
friend at my side.

"You seem to know a good many facts regarding the affair," I said.
"Have you no idea of the identity of the mysterious informant?"

"Well"--he hesitated--"I have a suspicion that it was some person
associated with them--some one who became conscience-stricken. Ah!
M'sieur Biddulph, if you only knew the marvellous cunning of that
invulnerable gang. Had it not been for that informant, they would
still be operating--in open defiance of the police of Europe. Criminal
methods, if expert, only fail for want of funds. Are not some of our
wealthiest financiers mere criminals who, by dealing in thousands, as
other men deal in francs, conceal their criminal methods? Half your
successful financiers are merely successful adventurers. The
_dossiers_ of some of them, preserved in the police bureaux, would be
astounding reading to those who admire them and proclaim them the
successful men of to-day--kings of finance they call them!"

"You are certainly something of a philosopher," I laughed, compelled
to admit the truth of his argument; "but tell me--how is it that you
know so much concerning George Harriman, alias Bell, and his
antecedents?"

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

PROOF POSITIVE

I was greatly interested, even though I was now filled with suspicion.

Somehow I had become impressed with the idea that the stranger might
have been one of the daring and dangerous association, and that he had
related that strange story for the purpose of misleading me.

But the stranger, who had, in the course of our conversation, told me
that his name was Pierre Delanne, only said--

"You could have read it all in the _Matin_, my dear monsieur."

His attitude was that of a man who knew more than he intended to
reveal. Surely it was a curious circumstance, standing there in the
night, listening to the dramatic truth concerning the big-faced
American, Harriman, whom I had for so long regarded as an enigma.

"Tell me, Monsieur Delanne," I said, "for what reason have you
followed me to London?"

He laughed as he strode easily along at my side towards the Duke of
York's steps.

"Haven't I already told you that I did not purposely follow you?" he
exclaimed.

"Yes, but I don't believe it," was my very frank reply. He had
certainly explained that, but his manner was not earnest. I could see
that he was only trifling with me, trifling i