furniture.

It was so with Ralph Ansell. He hated the Baron, therefore he slashed
his furniture. In many other homes he had acted in a similar way, just
as, indeed, Bonnemain always acted, carrying a keen knife for the
purpose.

"Shall we risk going to his room?" whispered Adolphe, who approached
him.

"Of course, my friend. A few of those papers will be worth thousands of
francs to us," he replied in a low breath. "This is the job of our
lives, _mon vieux_. I daresay there are papers there which the German
Government would buy back at any price we chose to put on them."

"All right, then," was "The Eel's" reply. "If there's no great risk,
then let us have a try."

"You've got your revolver--eh?"

"No. I never carry one now," was Adolphe's response.

"Never mind, I've got one; and I shall shoot--if necessary," Ralph
replied. "I mean to have those papers at all costs. So don't lose your
head."

"I never do."

"_Bien!_ Then to work."

And the pair crept from the room without a sound, and along the dark,
thickly-carpeted corridor.

CHAPTER X.

HONOUR AMONG THIEVES.

They ascended the broad, dark staircase noiselessly and crept along to a
door which _Fil-en-Quatre_ opened cautiously, when they found themselves
in the big salon, a spacious, luxuriantly-furnished room, where many of
the notables of Paris, both social and political, were wont to assemble.

Society was in ignorance of the true _metier_ of this wealthy Belgian,
and as he entertained lavishly upon the money secretly supplied to him
from Berlin, he was accepted at his own valuation, and was highly
popular in the embassy set.

The little ray of light from Ralph's lamp travelled slowly around,
revealing quantities of _bric-a-brac_; but so much booty had they
already obtained that the pair only selected two gold spoons from a
glass-topped specimen-table, with a little box, also of chased gold.

As Ralph looked around, he again became seized by that uncontrollable
desire to commit damage for the mere sake of wanton destruction;
therefore drawing his knife, he slashed quickly at a big ottoman covered
with old rose silk damask, cutting it across and across. Afterwards he
treated a down cushion in the same fierce fashion, causing the feathers
to fly about the room.

"Come--enough!" whispered "The Eel" at his elbow. "Where is the Baron's
room?"

"We've got to find it," was the reply. "And, by Heaven! if the spy
moves, I'll put some lead i