ncheon."

"Then let us go to it," said Turner, with his watch in his hand. But
before we had reached the door, Alphonse had placed himself in
Turner's way, looking as tall as he could.

"Mr. Devar is my friend," he cried, with a dramatic gesture and a
fierce snatch at that side of his mustache which invariably failed him
at crucial moments.

"Then, my dear Giraud," said Turner, laying his fatherly hand on the
Frenchman's shoulder, "say nothing about it. It is no matter for
pride. Devar was once my clerk, and would now be doing penal servitude
if I had not let him off. Shall we go to luncheon?"

But Alphonse was not to be mollified, and during a meal, of which
Turner duly appreciated the merits, concealed his annoyance with a
tact truly French. He was a little more formal in his speech--a little
more ceremonious in manner, and John Turner ignored these signs with a
placid assurance for which I was grateful.

"Where did you pick up Devar?" asked the banker, when the edge of his
appetite had been blunted by cold game pie.

"He picked me up," answered I; and went on to explain how this
gentleman had forced himself upon us, and how Sander had given me a
plain hint how to rid myself of him.

"Of course," said John Turner, "he is in league with Miste, and has
been keeping him informed of your movements. If you see Devar again,
kick him. I had that pleasure myself once, but I'm afraid you will
never get the chance. The man has had a finger in every Anglo-French
swindle of the last ten years. He dares not show his face in Paris."

We continued to talk of Mr. Devar and his liabilities, of which the
least seemed to be the risk of a kicking from myself. The man had, it
appeared, sailed too near the wind of fraud on several occasions, and
John Turner held him in the hollow of his hand.

Alphonse, however, was not to be appeased. His honour had, as he
imagined, been assailed by this insult to one upon whom he had
bestowed his friendship, and he took no part in our talk when it was
of Devar.

Turner did not stay long after we had finished our wine.

"No," he said, "if I do not keep moving I shall go to sleep."

When he had left us, Alphonse showed a restlessness which soon
culminated in departure, and I sat down to write to Sander. The rapid
exit (which ultimately proved to be as complete as it was sudden) of
Mr. Devar could not fail to have some bearing on the quest in which
Sander was engaged, and I now recapitulated