ue de la Grande
Armee, when he became aware that a gentleman was approaching him with the
intention of speaking. Turning quickly, he saw in the uncertain light a man
of medium height with a dark beard tinged with gray, wearing a loose black
cape overcoat and a silk hat. The stranger saluted politely and said with a
slight foreign accent: "How are you, M. Louis? I have been expecting you."

The words were simple enough, yet they contained a double surprise for
Coquenil. He was at a loss to understand how he could have been expected
here where he had come by the merest accident, and, certainly, this was the
first time in twenty years that anyone, except his mother, had addressed
him as Louis. He had been christened Louis Paul, but long ago he had
dropped the former name, and his most intimate friends knew him only as
Paul Coquenil.

"How do you know that my name is Louis?" answered the detective with a
sharp glance.

"I know a great deal about you," answered the other, and then with
significant emphasis: "_I know that you are interested in dreams_. May I
walk along with you?"

"You may," said Coquenil, and at once his keen mind was absorbed in this
new problem. Instinctively he felt that something momentous was preparing.

"Rather clever, your getting on that cab to-night," remarked the other.

"Ah, you know about that?"

"Yes, and about the Rio Janeiro offer. We want you to reconsider your
decision." His voice was harsh and he spoke in a quick, brusque way, as one
accustomed to the exercise of large authority.

"Who, pray, are 'we'?" asked the detective.

"Certain persons interested in this Ansonia affair."

"Persons whom you represent?"

"In a way."

"Persons who know about the crime--I mean, who know the truth about it?"

"Possibly."

"Hm! Do these persons know what covered the holes in Number Seven?"

"A Japanese print."

"And in Number Six?"

"Some yellow hangings."

"Ah!" exclaimed Coquenil in surprise. "Do they know why Martinez bored
these holes?"

"To please the woman," was the prompt reply.

"Did she want Martinez killed?"

"No."

"Then why did she want the holes bored?"

"_She wanted to see into Number Seven_."

It was extraordinary, not only the man's knowledge but his unaccountable
frankness. And more than ever the detective was on his guard.

"I see you know something about the affair," he said dryly. "What do you
want with me?"

"The persons I represent----"

"Say the _p