help me to get rid of him?" Dory inquired. "I have my hands
full just now, as you can imagine, what with the political crisis and
these constant mass meetings. I want Guillot out of the country. If you
can manage this for me I shall be your eternal debtor."

"Why do you imagine," Peter asked, "that I can help you in this matter?"

There was a brief silence. John Dory knocked the ash from his cigar.

"Times have changed," he said. "The harmlessness of your great society,
my dear Baron, is at present admitted. But there were days----"

"Exactly," Peter interrupted. "As shrewd as ever, I perceive. Do you
know anything of the object of his coming?"

"Nothing."

"Anything of his plans?"

"Nothing."

"You know where he is staying?"

"Naturally," Dory answered. "He has taken a second-floor flat in
Crayshaw Mansions, Shaftesbury Avenue. As usual, he is above all petty
artifices. He has taken it under the name of Monsieur Guillot."

"I really don't know whether there is anything I can do," Peter decided,
"but I will look into the matter for you with pleasure. Perhaps I may be
able to bring a little influence to bear--indirectly, of course. If so,
it is at your service. Lady Dory is well, I trust?"

"In the best of health," Sir John replied, accepting the hint and rising
to his feet. "I shall hear from you soon?"

"Without a doubt," Peter answered. "I must certainly call upon Monsieur
Guillot."

Peter wasted no time in paying his promised visit. That same afternoon
he rang the bell at the flat in Crayshaw Mansions. A typical French
butler showed him into the room where the great man sat. Monsieur
Guillot, slight, elegant, preeminently a dandy, was lounging upon a
sofa, being manicured by a young lady. He threw down his _Petit Journal_
and rose to his feet, however, at his visitor's entrance.

"My dear Baron," he exclaimed, "but this is charming of you!
Mademoiselle," he added, turning to the manicurist, "you will do me the
favour of retiring for a short time. Permit me."

He opened the door and showed her out. Then he came back to Peter.

"A visit of courtesy, Monsieur le Baron?" he asked.

"Without a doubt," Peter replied.

"It is beyond all measure charming of you," Guillot declared, "but let
me ask you a question. Is it peace or war?"

"It is what you choose to make it," Peter answered.

The man threw out his hands. There was the shadow of a frown upon his
pale forehead. It was a matter for protest, thi