w; "back to the New Louvre--
jump in, Petrie!"

The cab went rattling away ... as a faint light became perceptible in
the room beyond the broken panel.

Hitherto I had been able to detect the presence of this panel only by
my sense of touch and by means of a faint draught which blew through
it; now it suddenly became clearly perceptible. I found myself looking
into what was evidently the principal room of the house--a dreary
apartment with tatters of paper hanging from the walls and litter of
all sorts lying about upon the floor and in the rusty fireplace.

Some one had partly raised the front window and opened the shutters.
A patch of moonlight shone down upon the floor immediately below my
hiding-place and furthermore enabled me vaguely to discern the disorder
of the room.

A bulky figure showed silhouetted against the dirty panes. It was that
of a man who, leaning upon the window sill, was peering intently in.
Silently he had approached, and silently had raised the sash and
opened the shutters.

For thirty seconds or more he stood so, moving his head from right to
left ... and I watched him through the broken panel, almost holding my
breath with suspense. Then, fully raising the window, the man stepped
into the room, and, first reclosing the shutters, suddenly flashed the
light of an electric lamp all about the place. I was enabled to
discern him more clearly, this mysterious spy who had tracked us from
the moment that we had left the hotel.

He was a man of portly build wearing a heavy fur-lined overcoat and
having a soft felt hat, the brim turned down so as to shade the upper
part of his face. Moreover, he wore his fur collar turned up, which
served further to disguise him, since it concealed the greater part
of his chin. But the eyes which now were searching every corner of
the room, the alert, dark eyes, were strangely familiar. The black
mustache, the clear-cut, aquiline nose, confirmed the impression.

Our follower was M. Samarkan, manager of the New Louvre.

I suppressed a gasp of astonishment. Small wonder that our plans had
leaked out. This was a momentous discovery indeed.

And as I watched the portly Greek who was not only one of the most
celebrated _maitres d'hotel_ in Europe, but also a creature of Dr.
Fu-Manchu, he cast the light of his electric lamp upon a note attached
by means of a drawing-pin to the inside of the room door. I
immediately divined that my friend must have pinned the note in