n an easy, good-natured
way.

"_Bien!_" he said; "and if I followed you, Monsieur Biddulph, I assert
that it is with no sinister intent."

"How do I know that?" I queried. "You are a stranger."

"I admit that. But you are not a stranger to me, my dear monsieur."

"Well, let us come to the point," I said. "What do you want with me?"

"Nothing," he laughed. "Was it not you yourself who addressed me?"

"But you followed me!" I cried. "You can't deny that."

"Monsieur may hold of me whatever opinion he pleases," was Delanne's
polite reply. "I repeat my regrets, and I ask pardon."

He spoke English remarkably well. But I recollected that the
international thief--the man who is a cosmopolitan, and who commits
theft in one country to-night, and is across the frontier in the
morning--is always a perfect linguist. Harriman was. Though American,
with all his nasal intonation and quaint Americanisms, he spoke
half-a-dozen Continental languages quite fluently.

My bitter experiences of the past caused considerable doubt to arise
within me. I had had warnings that my mysterious enemies would attack
me secretly, by some subtle means. Was this Frenchman one of them?

He saw that I treated him with some suspicion, but it evidently amused
him. His face beamed with good-nature.

At the bottom of the broad flight of stairs which lead up to the
United Service Club and Pall Mall, I halted.

"Now look here, Monsieur Delanne," I said, much puzzled and mystified
by the man's manner and the curious story he had related, "I have
neither desire nor inclination for your company further. You
understand?"

"Ah, monsieur, a thousand pardons," cried the man, raising his hat and
bowing with the elegance of the true Parisian. "I have simply spoken
the truth. Did you not put to me questions which I have answered? You
have said you are engaged to the daughter of my friend Penning-ton.
That has interested me."

"Why?"

"Because the daughter of my friend Penning-ton always interests me,"
was his curious reply.

"Is that an intended sarcasm?" I asked resentfully.

"Not in the least, m'sieur," he said quickly. "I have every admiration
for the young lady."

"Then you know her--eh?"

"By repute."

"Why?"

"Well, her father was connected with one of the strangest and most
extraordinary incidents in my life," he said. "Even to-day, the
mystery of it all has not been cleared up. I have tried, times without
number, to elucidate it, but