ntended to rejoin her former
profession. Brett secured his hearty co-operation by a liberal donation
for expenses.

The barrister resolved to pay another visit to the Cabaret Noir late
that evening, but he waited in the hotel until nearly ten o'clock in
anxious expectation of a telegram from Fairholme.

At last the message arrived. Its contents were laconic.

"Right first time," it ran. "Invalid lady's name 'Jack.' Somewhat
exhausted, after long confinement. Edith delighted. Jack visits
Under-Secretary to-night. We all purpose joining you in Paris to-morrow.
Do you approve?"

Brett promptly wired, "Yes," and then set out for Montmartre, dressing
himself in the height of fashion so far as his wardrobe would permit,
and donning a fierce moustache and wig, which completely altered his
appearance. He looked like a successful impressario or popular Italian
tenor.

CHAPTER XII

THE INNKEEPER

The fair-ground of Montmartre was in full swing when Brett arrived
there. The Cabaret Noir was in charge of his former acquaintance, the
weary-eyed waiter, and other assistants.

The barrister wondered whether Mlle. Beaucaire had taken her father
completely into her confidence. To make certain he questioned the
waiter.

"Is Monsieur Beaucaire in?" he said.

"But yes, monsieur. You will find him in the billiard-room."

This time Brett was not conducted through the private passage that led
through the rear of the bar. The man politely indicated another
entrance, and brought him to the proprietor with the introductory
remark--

"A gentleman who wishes to see you."

The room was tenanted by a nondescript crowd, whose attention was
promptly attracted by the appearance of a stranger, and a well-dressed
one at that.

The games in progress at the two tables were momentarily suspended,
whilst Gros Jean, a corpulent man above the middle height, whose legs
seemed to be too frail to support his rotund body, advanced, peering
curiously beneath his bushy eyebrows to get a glimpse of the newcomer,
for the shaded light did not fall on Brett's features, and M. Beaucaire
wondered who the stranger could be. The barrister almost started when he
recognized his fellow-passenger, the man who travelled to Paris with
Gaultier and himself. Gros Jean bowed politely enough, and murmured
something about being at Brett's service.

"Oh, it is nothing of great importance," said Brett airily, as he was
not anxious to attract too much observ