d transpired
from the moment he had left.

Fully an hour I occupied in telling him the whole story, and never once
did he open his mouth. I saw by the reflection of the light upon the
snowy road that his eyes were half closed behind his goggles, and more
than once feared that he had gone to sleep.

Suddenly, however, he said--

"And who is the long-nosed stranger?"

"I don't know."

"But it's your place to know," he snapped. "We can't have fellows prying
into our affairs without knowing who they are. Haven't you tried to
discover?"

"I thought it too risky."

"Then you think he's a police-agent, eh?"

"That's just what Blythe and I both think."

"Describe him."

I did so to the best of my ability.

And Bindo gave vent to a grunt of dissatisfaction, after which a long
silence fell between us.

"'The President' is at the Hermitage, eh?" he asked at last. "Does he
know where I've been?"

"I'm not sure. He knows you have not lately been in Monty."

"But you say he nodded to Mademoiselle, and that afterwards she denied
acquaintance with him? Didn't that strike you as curious?"

"Of course, but I feared to press her. You don't let me into your
secrets, therefore I'm compelled always to work in the dark."

"Let you into a secret, Ewart!" he laughed "Why, if I did, you'd either
go and give it away next day quite unconsciously, or else you'd be in
such a blue funk that you'd turn tail and clear out just at the very
moment when I want you."

"Well, in London, before we started, you said you had a big thing on,
and I've been ever since trying to discover what it is."

"The whole affair has altered," was his quick reply. "I gave up the
first idea for a second and better one."

"And what's that? Tell me."

"You wait, my dear fellow. Have the car ready, and leave the brain-work
to me. You can drive a car with anybody in Europe, Ewart, but when it
comes to a tight corner you haven't got enough brains to fill a doll's
thimble," he laughed. "Permit me to speak frankly, for we know each
other well enough now, I fancy."

"Yes, you _are_ frank," I admitted. "But," I added reproachfully, "in
working in the dark there's always a certain element of danger."

"Danger be hanged! If I thought of danger I'd have been at Portland long
ago. Successful men in any walk of life are those who have courage and
are successfully unscrupulous," he said, for he seemed in one of his
quaint, philosophic moods. "Those who are unsu