speed, and I followed.

The rain soon fell faster and thicker. We had no umbrellas; and being by
this time in a region of back-streets, an empty fiacre was a prize not
to be hoped for. Coming presently to a dark archway, we took shelter and
waited till the shower should pass over. It lasted longer than we had
expected, and threatened to settle into a night's steady rain. Mueller
kept his blood warm by practicing extravagant quadrille steps and
singing scraps of Beranger's ballads; whilst I, watching impatiently for
a cab, kept peering up and down the street, and listening to
every sound.

Presently a quick footfall echoed along the wet pavement, and the figure
of a man, dimly seen by the blurred light of the street-lamps, came
hurrying along the other side of the way. Something in the firm free
step, in the upright carriage, in the height and build of the passer-by,
arrested my attention. He drew nearer. He passed under the lamp just
opposite, and, as he passed, flung away the end of his cigar, which
fell, hissing, into the little rain-torrent running down the middle of
the street. He carried no umbrella; but his hat was pulled low, and his
collar drawn up, and I could see nothing of his face. But the gesture
was enough.

For a moment I stood still and looked after him; then, calling to Mueller
that I should be back presently, I darted off in pursuit.

CHAPTER XLIX.

THE KING OF DIAMONDS.

The rain beat in my face and almost blinded me, the wind hustled me; the
gendarme at the corner of the street looked at me suspiciously; and
still I followed, and still the tall stranger strode on ahead. Up one
street he led me and down another, across a market-place, through an
arcade, past the Bourse, and into that labyrinth of small streets that
lies behind the Italian Opera-house, and is bounded on the East by the
Rue de Richelieu, and on the West by the Rue Louis le Grand. Here he
slackened his pace, and I found myself gaming upon him for the first
time. Presently he came to a dead stop, and as I continued to draw
nearer, I saw him take out his watch and look at it by the light of a
street-lamp. This done, he began sauntering slowly backwards and
forwards, as if waiting for some second person.

For a moment I also paused, hesitating. What should I do?--pass him
under the lamp, and try to see his face? Go boldly up to him, and invent
some pretence to address him, or wait in this angle of deep shade, and
see what would