rd's blow as I never had foreseen," he continued;
"but, as I believe, my resources are equal even to this."

"What! You know the murderer?"

"If the wrong man is not arrested by some one of the agents of Scotland
Yard, of Mr. Oppner, of Julius Rohscheimer, of Heaven alone knows how
many others that seek, I have hopes that within a few hours, at most, of
the world's learning I am an assassin, the world will learn that I am
not. Can you be ready to accompany me at any hour after 5 A.M. that I
may come for you?"

Sheard stared.

"Certainly."

"Then--to bed, oh, doughty copy-hunter. You still are my friend. That is
all I wished to know. For that alone I came like a thief in the night.
Until I return, au revoir."

CHAPTER XXIV

"V-E-N-G-E-N-C-E"

At half-past seven on the morning following M. Levi's visit the Count de
Guise opened the door of 59b Bedford Court Mansions to that eccentric
old art expert. M. Levi was accompanied by his partner, a tall, heavily
bearded man, who looked like a Russian, and by two other strangers, one
an alert-eyed, clean-shaven person in a tweed suit, the other a younger
man, evidently Scotch, who carried a little brown bag. These two would
commence an inventory, m'sieur being agreeable.

Entering the dining-room, with its massive old oak furniture, de Guise,
who found something uncomfortably fascinating in the eye of the partner,
lighted a cigarette and took up a position on the rug before the fire,
hands characteristically locked behind him.

"This is the Greuze," said Dr. Lepardo, pointing.

The Count, with the others, turned to look at the picture.

_Click! Click!_

He was securely handcuffed.

With an animal scream of rage the Count turned upon Lepardo, the vein
throbbing on his temple, his eyes glaring in maniacal fury. He sought to
speak, but only a slight froth rose to his lips; no word could he utter.

"Sit down in that chair," said Dr Lepardo.

With a gurgling scream de Guise's fury found utterance.

"Release me immediately. What----"

_"Sit down!"_

De Guise ground his white teeth together. The pulsing vein on his brow
seemed like to burst. He dropped into a chair, trembling and quivering
with passionate anger.

"You--shall--pay for--this!"

"My friend," said Lepardo, turning to the man who had carried the bag,
"this gentleman"--nodding at his companion in the tweed suit--"would
like to hear who you are, and for what you visited Moorgate Place last
e