smooth----"

"Tchah!"

The bearded man reclaimed the paper with a laugh that carried no
conviction.

"The courts 'ud hand me big money damages for a libel like that," he
declared.

"Would they?"

The smiling eyes of the Englishman were challenging. The other shrugged
as well as his attitude would permit, and, emitting a cloud of smoke
from his rank cigar, pretended to continue his reading.

At that moment a stir recurred amongst the "crap-shooters" under one of
the windows, and the Englishman looked round. His alert ears had caught
the sound of Saney's name on the lips of one of the men who had ceased
his play to peer out of the window.

He rose swiftly from his chair and joined the group. The man with the
beard had made no movement. He, too, had heard Saney's name, and a keen,
alert, sidelong glance followed his neighbour's movements.

The other was away some seconds. When he returned his breathing seemed
to have quickened, and a light of uncertainty shone in his eyes.

"It's Saney," he said, without waiting for any question. "He's coming
down the street. I should think he's coming here. He's crossed over as
if he were."

"Alone?"

The bearded man's question was sharp.

"No. There's another fellow with him. He's in plain clothes. A youngish
looking fellow, with a clean shaven face, and a pair of shoulders like
an ox. Looks to me like a cavalryman in mufti. He certainly looks as if
he ought to have a saddle under him. I----"

The other waited for no more. He was on his feet and across the room at
the window in a twinkling. And the smiling eyes of the Englishman gazed
after him. In the other's absence he picked up the paper which had
fallen upon the floor, and looked again at the portrait of the man, and
re-read the letterpress underneath it.

"Hervey Garstaing," he murmured, as though impressing the name upon his
mind. Then he laid the paper quickly aside as the thrusting of chairs
announced his companion's return.

The next few minutes were full of a tense interest for the man who had
only just crossed the border line into the world of crime. The man with
the brown beard passed him by without a word. He thrust the chairs,
which stood in his way, hastily aside. He seemed to have no regard for
anything but his own rapid progress. He was making for the counter with
its iron defences.

The smile in the Englishman's eyes deepened. His interest rose to a wave
of excitement. He felt assured that "things