dressed to Beaujolais, and it bore a foreign
postmark. Brett tore it open. It contained a single sheet of notepaper,
without a date or address, or any words save these, scrawled across the
centre--

"_Tout va bien_."

He placed the document and its envelope in his pocket-book, and then
fixed his keen glance on the shopkeeper's pallid face.

"What sort of a person is Monsieur Beaujolais?"

The man was still so nervous that he could hardly speak.

"I am not good at descriptions," he began.

So Brett helped.

"Was he a Frenchman, about my height, elegant in appearance, well built,
with long thin hands and straight tapering fingers, with very fair skin
and high colour, dark hair and large eyes set deeply beneath well-marked
eyebrows?"

"That is he to the life," cried the shopkeeper. "Monsieur must know him
well. I recall him now exactly, but I could not for a hundred francs
have described him so accurately."

"How long have you known him?" broke in Brett.

"Let me think," mused the man, who had now somewhat recovered from his
alarm. "He came here one day last week--I think it was Thursday, because
that day my daughter Marie--no matter what Marie did, I remember the
date quite well now. He came in and asked me if I did not receive
letters for a fee. I said 'Yes,' and told him that I charged ten
centimes per letter. He gave me his name, and thereafter called
regularly to obtain the enclosure from London. He always handed me half
a franc and would never take any change."

"Was he alone?"

"Invariably, monsieur."

"Thank you. You will not be arrested to-night. I think you have told the
truth."

The shopkeeper's protestations that he had given every assistance in
his power followed them into the street.

Brett dismissed the two detectives and returned to the hotel, where he
and Fairholme found Edith and her brother sitting up for them. When
Talbot heard the contents of the letter he remarked: "I suppose that
'All goes well' means that I am still a prisoner?"

"Undoubtedly," said the barrister. "The letter was posted in the
Haymarket. It came from your French host. I wonder what he will write
now? By the way, where is he? Did you lose sight of the couple after
your escape?"

"I did," laughed Talbot. "But Inspector Winter did not. By some
mysterious means he learnt all about Fairholme's action in smashing in
the door. Whilst I was at the Foreign Office that night he arrested both
th