fool do you
think I am?"

"I see you're a bigger one than I thought you were! Your pull can't
help you any longer, Grady."

"Was it to tell me that you got me over here?"

"No," said Godfrey, "all this is just incidental--you began the
discussion yourself, didn't you? I got you here to meet...."

The outer door opened again, and Godfrey looked toward it, smiling.

"Moosseer Piggott!" announced the office-boy.

And then I almost bounced from my seat, for I would have sworn that
the man who stood on the threshold was the man who had opened the
secret drawer.

He came forward, looking from face to face; then his eyes met
Godfrey's and he smiled.

"Behold that I am here, monsieur," he said and I started anew at the
voice, for it was the voice of Crochard. "I hope that I have not kept
you waiting."

"Not at all, M. Pigot," Godfrey assured him, and placed a chair for
him.

I could see Grady and Simmonds gripping the arms of their chairs and
staring at the newcomer, their mouths open; and I knew the thought
that was flashing through their brains. Was this Pigot? Or was the
man who had opened the cabinet Pigot? Or was neither Pigot? Was it
possible that this could be a different man than the one who had
opened the cabinet?

I confess that some such thought flashed through my own mind--a
suspicion that Godfrey, in some way, was playing with us.

Godfrey looked about at us, smiling as he saw our expressions.

"I went down the bay this morning and met the _Savoie_," he said. "I
related to M. Pigot last night's occurrences, and begged him to be
present at this meeting. He was good enough to agree. I assure you,"
he added, seeing Grady's look, "that this _is_ M. Pigot, of the Paris
_Service du Surete,_ and not Crochard."

"Oh, yes," said M. Pigot, with a deprecating shrug. "I am myself--and
greatly humiliated that I should have fallen so readily into the trap
which Crochard set for me. But he is a very clever man."

"It was certainly a marvellous disguise," I said. "It was more than
that--it was an impersonation."

"Crochard has had occasion to study me," explained M. Pigot, drily.
"And he is an artist in whatever he does. But some day I shall get
him--every pitcher to the well goes once too often. There is no hope
of finding him here in New York?"

"I am afraid not," said Godfrey.

"Don't be too sure of that!" broke in Grady ponderously. "I ain't
done yet--not by no manner of means!"

"Pardon me for not i