.

"Quite against my will, I assure you, Ewart," he laughed. "But, by
Jove!" he added, "the whole affair is full of confounded complications.
I had no idea of it all till I returned to town."

"Then you've made inquiries regarding Monsieur Dumont and his mysterious
disappearance?"

"Of course. That's why I went."

"And were they satisfactory? I mean did you discover whether
Mademoiselle has told the truth?" I asked anxiously.

"She told you the exact truth. Her father, her lover, and the jewels are
missing. Scotland Yard, at the express request of the Paris police, are
preserving the secret. Not a syllable has been allowed to leak out to
the Press. For that very reason I altered my plans."

"And what do you now intend to do?"

"Not quite so fast, my dear Ewart. Just wait and see," answered the man
who had re-entered France by the back door.

And by midnight "Monsieur Charles Bellingham, de Londres," was sleeping
soundly in his room in the Hotel de Paris at Monte Carlo.

VIII

IN WHICH THE TRUTH IS EXPLAINED

During the next three days I saw but little of Bindo.

His orders to me were not to approach or to worry him. I noticed him in
a suit of cream flannels and Panama hat, sunning himself on the terrace
before the Casino, or lunching at the Hermitage or Metropole with people
he knew, appearing to the world to lead the idle life of a well-to-do
man about town--one of a thousand other good-looking, wealthy men whose
habit it was annually to spend the worst weeks in the year beside the
blue Mediterranean.

To the _monde_ and the _demi-monde_ Bindo was alike a popular person.
More than one member of the latter often received a substantial sum for
acting as his spy, whether there, or at Aix, or at Ostend. But so lazy
was his present attitude that I was surprised.

Daily I drove him over to Beaulieu to call upon Mademoiselle and her
chaperon, and nearly every evening he dined with them.

Madame of the yellow teeth had introduced Sir Charles to him, and the
pair had met as perfect strangers, as they had so often done before.

Both men were splendid actors, and it amused me to watch them when, on
being introduced, they would gradually begin a conversation regarding
mutual acquaintances.

But in this case I could not, for the life of me, discern what game was
being played.

One afternoon I drove Bindo, with Blythe, Madame, and Mademoiselle, over
to the Beau Site, at Cannes, to tea, and the party was cert