end to sail for Europe by to-morrow's steamer. They
have empowered me to offer to pay the passage money to France of the
music-teacher, Jean de Courtois, though not by the same vessel as that
in which they purpose traveling. As for you, Mr. Curtis, the Earl
withdraws all threats, and leaves you to settle your dispute with the
authorities as you may think fit. May I add that if you choose to
consult me I shall be glad to act for you. I would not say this if it
was merely a professional matter, but there are circumstances--
Certainly, I shall be here at eleven o'clock on Monday. Till then,
sir, I wish you good-day. Good-day, Mr. Devar. Remember me to your
father. By, by, Mr. Steingall. You and I will meet at Philippi."

Once the three were in Madison Square, Devar could not be restrained.

"Steingall," he said, "if you don't tell me how you managed it, I'll
sit down right here on the sidewalk and blubber like a child."

"You were present. You heard every word," said the detective blandly.

"Yes, I know you scared them stiff. But who, in Heaven's name, are
Peter Balusky and Franz Viviadi? Where, did you find 'em? Did they
drop from the skies, or come up from-- Well, where _did_ you get 'em?"

"Clancy and I bagged them quite easily after Mr. Curtis and you left
Siegelman's cafe. All we had to do was wait till Vassilan quit. They
were hanging about all the time, but afraid to meet him. . . . Now,
you must ask me no more questions. I am going to Clancy. He is
keeping an eye on Jean de Courtois."

"Did you ever intend to have the Frenchman brought to Schmidt's office?"

"Of course I did. What a question! Good-by. There's your car. I'm
off," and the detective swung himself into a passing streetcar.

"Do you know," said Devar thoughtfully, "I am beginning to believe that
Steingall says a lot of things he really doesn't mean. I haven't quite
made up my mind yet as to whether or not he hasn't run an awful bluff
on the noble lord and the most noble count. And the weird thing is
that Schmidt didn't call it. Did it strike you, Curtis, that----"

Then he looked at his friend, whose silent indifference to what he was
saying could no longer pass unnoticed.

"What is it, old man?" he asked, with ready solicitude. "Are you
feeling the strain, or what?"

"It is nothing," said Curtis. "A run in the car will soon clear my
head. Perhaps you and I might arrange for a long week-end, far away
from New York