e out with you?"

"I hardly know yet. I meet them to-night at supper at the Savoy, and we
shall then decide. At any rate, I shall go;" and walking to the little
writing-table, he took up the telephone receiver and asked for the
Sleeping Car Company's office in Pall Mall. Then, when a reply came, he
asked them to reserve a small compartment in the Mediterranean Express
on the morrow.

"And," he exclaimed, turning again to me, "I want to impress upon you
one thing, Ewart. You and I know each other well, don't we? Now in this
affair there may be more than one mysterious feature. You'll be puzzled,
perhaps,--greatly puzzled,--but don't trouble your head over the why or
the wherefore until we bring off the _coup_ successfully. Then I'll tell
you the whole facts--and, by Jove! you'll find them stranger than ever
you've read in a book. When you know the truth of the affair you'll be
staggered."

My curiosity was, I admit, excited. Count Bindo, the dare-devil Italian
adventurer, who cared not a jot for any man living, and who himself
lived so well upon the proceeds of his amazing audacity and clever wits,
was not in the habit of speaking like this. I pressed him to tell me
more, but he only said--

"Go, Ewart. Get a bite of something to eat, for you must surely want it;
buy what you want for the car--oil, carbide, and the rest, and get away
to meet the pretty Pierrette. And--again good luck to you!" he added, as
he mixed a little more whisky and tossed it off.

Then he shook my hand warmly. I left his cosy quarters, and within an
hour was crossing Westminster Bridge on the first stage of my hasty run
across Europe.

I had plenty of time to get down to Newhaven to catch the boat, but if I
was to be in the Forest of Fontainebleau by eight o'clock next morning I
would, I knew, be compelled to travel as hard as possible. The road was
well known to me, all the way from the Channel to the Mediterranean.
Bindo and I had done it together at least a dozen times.

Since leaving Clifford Street I had eaten a hasty meal, picked up a
couple of new "non-skids" at the depot where we dealt, oiled up, filled
the petrol tank, and given the engine a general look round. But as soon
as I got out of London the cold became so intense that I was compelled
to draw on my fur gloves and button my collar up about my chin.

Who was Pierrette? I wondered. And what was the nature of this great
_coup_ devised by the three artists in crime who were co