bald head.

"There he is, coming towards us," M. Louis replied. "His name is
Arnold."

"Good God!" cried Muller; "and the red-headed fellow: the carroty chap?"
M. Louis shook his head, not understanding, and Muller tore himself away
and rushed down to the hall porter. "Has he gone out? Has anyone gone
out?"

"No one," said the porter, "except, of course, the servant from the
second floor, whom you sent for the police."

"The carroty chap?" Muller enquired.

"Yes, the carroty chap."

Princess Sonia Danidoff lay back in an easy chair, receiving the anxious
attentions of Nadine, her Circassian maid. M. Louis was holding salts to
her nostrils. The Princess still held in her hands the card left by the
mysterious stranger who had just robbed her so cleverly of a hundred and
twenty thousand francs. As she slowly came to herself the Princess gazed
at the card as if fascinated, and this time her haggard eyes grew wide
with astonishment. For upon the card, which hitherto had appeared
immaculately white, marks and letters were gradually becoming visible,
and the Princess read:

"Fan--to--mas!"

XI. MAGISTRATE AND DETECTIVE

M. Fuselier was standing in his office in the law courts at Paris,
meditatively smoothing the nap of his silk hat. His mind was busy with
the enquiries he had been prosecuting during the day, and although he
had no reason to be dissatisfied with his day's work he had no clear
idea as to what his next steps ought to be.

Three discreet taps on the door broke in upon his thoughts.

"Come in," he said, and then stepped forward with a hearty welcome as he
recognised his visitor. "Juve, by all that is wonderful! What good wind
has blown you here? I haven't seen you for ages. Busy?"

"Frightfully."

"Well, it's a fact that there's no dearth of sensational crime just now.
The calendar is terribly heavy."

Juve had ensconced himself in a huge easy chair in a corner of the room.

"Yes," he said, "you are quite right. But unfortunately the calendar
won't be a brilliant one for the police. There may be lots of cases, but
there are not lots that they have worked out to a finish."

"You've got nothing to grumble at," M. Fuselier smiled. "You have been
in enough cases lately that were worked out to a finish. Your reputation
isn't in any danger of diminishing."

"I don't know what you mean," Juve said deprecatingly. "If you refer to
the Beltham and Langrune cases, you must admit that your congra