Brett was called at ten o’clock.  After reinvigorating himself with a bath and a hearty breakfast, he was ready to meet Captain Gaultier, who arrived promptly at 11.30.

In the spacious foyer of the Grand Hotel it was impossible to say who might be looking at them.

“Come to my room,” said Brett.  “There we will be able to talk without interruption.”

Once comfortably seated, Brett resumed the conversation where he had broken it off in the train overnight.

“You say you know Hussein-ul-Mulk,” he commenced.

“Yes,” replied the King’s messenger, “and what is more, I have discovered his residence since we parted.  It seems that one of the attaches at the Embassy met him recently and thought it advisable to keep in touch with the Young Turkish party, of which Hussein-ul-Mulk is a shining light.  So he asked him where he lived, and as the result I have jotted down the address in my note-book.”  Gaultier searched through his memoranda, and speedily found what he wanted.

“Wait a minute,” interrupted Brett.  “Does it happen to be N, Rue Barbette?”

The barrister had more than once surprised his companion during the previous night, but this time Gaultier seemed to be more annoyed than startled.

“If you know all these things,” he said stiffly, “I don’t see why you should bother me to get you the information.  I certainly gathered from your remarks that the only acquaintance you had with Hussein-ul-Mulk was obtained from the newspapers, and that individual himself has the best of reasons for not publishing his address broadcast.”

Brett smiled.

“You mean,” he said, “that Hussein-ul-Mulk does live at N, Rue Barbette.”

“Why, of course he does,” was the irritable answer.

“That is very odd,” said the barrister.  “It was a mere guess on my part, I assure you.”

His assurance evidently did not weigh much with Captain Gaultier, who replaced the note-book in his pocket, and obviously cast about in his mind for a convenient excuse to take his departure.

Brett knew exactly what was troubling him.

“I am quite in earnest,” he said, “in telling you that I simply hazarded a guess at the address.  To prove that this is so, I must place you in possession of certain incidents which took place after we parted at the Gare du Nord.”

Rapidly but succinctly he told the amazed King’s messenger of the chase in the cab across Paris, and how he (Brett) had followed the Frenchman who was tracking Gaultier’s movements so closely.

“You will understand,” he concluded, “that, in view of my preconceived theory, it was not a very far-fetched assumption to connect Hussein-ul-Mulk with the house in the Rue Barbette into which your spy vanished.”

“Well,” gasped his astonished hearer, “I must say, Mr. Brett, that I owe you an apology.  I really thought at first you were fooling me, whereas now I learn that you simply kept your eyes open much wider than other people, perhaps.  Nevertheless, you have given me a genuine explanation of circumstances that were otherwise puzzling.  For, do you know, I heard about that chap calling at the Embassy last night.  The incident was unusual, to say the least, but I paid little attention to it, and certainly failed altogether to connect it with your visit to Paris.  Even yet I do not see what reason anyone can have for shadowing my movements.”

“I regard it as mere chance.  I imagine that our fellow-passenger in the train caught the name of Hussein-ul-Mulk in our conversation, and this decided him to shadow your movements, by means of the confederate who awaited his arrival at the station.  As it happened, they simply hit upon the wrong person.  It might have paid them much better to follow me.  The outcome of the blunder is that I am in a fair way towards ascertaining all I want to know about them, whereas, up to the present, they do not even suspect my existence as an active agent in the affair.”

“Well, now, in what way can I help you regarding Hussein-ul-Mulk?”

“Can you introduce me to him?”

“In what capacity?”

Brett reflected for a moment before replying.

“It would best suit my purpose if I met him as a political sympathiser.”

Gaultier evidently did not like the idea.  Foreign Office messengers do not care to be associated with politics in any shape or form.

“Is there no other way?” he asked dubiously.

“Plenty,” said Brett.  “I might pose as a friend of yours interested in Turkish carpets, or coffee, or cigarettes, but for the purpose of my inquiry it would be well to jump preliminaries at once and make this chance acquaintance under the guise of a wire-puller.”

“All right,” said Gaultier.  “I don’t see that it matters much to me, and the letter you have in your possession from the Under-Secretary is sufficient warrant for me to give you any assistance that lies in my power.”

He glanced at his watch.  “It is just about time for dejeuner,” he continued.  “What do you say if we drive to the Rue Barbette at once?”

The barrister assented, and they were soon crossing Paris with the superb disregard for other people’s feelings that characterises the local cab-driver.

“By the way,” inquired Gaultier, “have you learned anything else since your arrival?”

“Only this it was not our friend Talbot who came here on Tuesday with a lady.”

“You are sure?”

“Positive.  I have compared the handwriting in the hotel register with a letter undoubtedly written by Mr. Talbot, and the two do not agree.  The entry ‘Mr. and Mrs. Talbot, London,’ in the visitors’ book of the Grand Hotel, was a mere trick intended to amuse the police for a few hours until the conspirators had perfected their scheme for final and complete disappearance.”

“It was a bold move.”

“Very.  Quite in keeping with the rest of the details of an uncommon crime.”

At last the fiacre stopped in front of the house in the Rue Barbette which Brett had already scrutinized during the early hours of the morning.

“Here we are,” said Gaultier with a laugh.  “If we find Hussein-ul-Mulk at home I don’t know what the deuce we are going to say to him.  Remember that I depend on you to carry out a difficult situation, because my Turkish friend will become suspicious the minute he finds me dabbling in intrigue.  He knows full well that such matters are quite outside of my usual business.”

“I think I will be able to interest him,” said Brett calmly; and without further preliminary Gaultier ascertained from the concierge that the Turkish gentleman was within.

The two men ascended to the second storey.

Gaultier rapped loudly on the first door he encountered, and the summons appeared to scatter some of the inhabitants, judging by the rapid opening and closing of doors that preceded the appearance of an elderly and solemn-looking Turk, who cautiously demanded their business.

Gaultier sent in his card, and the servitor locked the door in the faces of the two men while he went to ascertain his master’s orders.

“They evidently do not mean to take many risks,” said the King’s messenger in a low voice.

“You are right,” replied Brett, “though they appear to take the greatest one of all without giving it a thought.”

“And what is that?”

“This exhibition of nervousness and precaution before visitors are admitted.  The best way to excite suspicion is to behave exactly as they are doing.”

But now the door was reopened, and the elderly Turk ushered them into a spacious room on the right of the entrance hall, where they were received by a young man a tall, dignified Mohammedan, who rose hastily from a chair, having apparently abandoned the perusal of a newspaper.

“Ah! mon brave Gaultier,” he cried, “I am so pleased to see you.  I did not know you were in Paris.  I have been spending an idle moment over smoke and scandal.”  He spoke excellent French, and appeared to be quite at his ease, but Brett noticed that Hussein-ul-Mulk held the discarded newspaper upside down.  He was smoking a cigarette, lighted the instant before their appearance, and notwithstanding his Oriental phlegm he seemed to be labouring under intense excitement.

Nevertheless, Hussein-ul-Mulk could control his nerves.

“Have you had dejeuner, or have you time to join me in a cigarette?” he went on.

“We will be delighted,” said Gaultier, taking the proffered case.  “The fact is, I only heard of your presence in Paris by accident, and I mentioned the fact to my friend here, who has interested himself in the Armenian cause in London.  He at once expressed a keen desire to make your acquaintance, so I ventured to bring him here and introduce him to you.  This is Mr. Reginald Brett, an English barrister, and one who keenly sympathizes with the reform movement in Turkey.”

“I am delighted to know you, Mr. Brett,” said the suave Oriental.  “It is naturally a great pleasure to me to make the acquaintance of any influential Englishman who has given sufficient thought to Eastern affairs to understand the way in which my country suffers under a barbarous and unenlightened rule.”

He spoke with the glibness of a born agitator, yet all the while he was inwardly wondering what could be the true motive of the visit paid him by this distinguished-looking stranger, and Brett was silently resolving to startle Hussein-ul-Mulk out of his complacency at the earliest possible moment.

“It is an even greater pleasure to me,” he said, “to find myself talking to a reformer so distinguished as you.  Your name is well known in England.  Indeed, in some quarters, it has come to be feared, which in this world is one of the signs of success.”

Hussein-ul-Mulk was puzzled, but he remained outwardly unperturbed.

“I was not aware,” he purred, “that my poor services to my country were so appreciated by my English friends.”

“Ah,” said Brett, with a smile that conveyed much, “a man like you cannot long remain hidden.  I have good reason to know that at the present moment your achievements are earnestly attracting the attention of the Foreign Office.”

Hussein-ul-Mulk became even more puzzled.  Indeed, he exhibited some slight tokens of alarm lest Brett’s vehement admiration should reach the ears of others in the adjoining room.

“Really,” he said, “you flatter me.  Will you not try these cigarettes?  They are the best; they are made from tobacco grown especially for the Sultan’s household, and it is death to export them.  I understand that the cigarette habit has grown very much of recent years in England?”

“Yes,” said Brett, “it certainly has developed with amazing rapidity.  In trade, as in politics, this is an astounding age.”

Gaultier knew that there was more behind the apparent exchange of compliments than appeared on the surface.  Having fulfilled his pledge to Brett, he said hurriedly, “Both of you gentlemen will understand that I cannot very well take part in a political discussion.  With your permission, Hussein, I will now leave my friend with you for a half-hour’s chat, as I have an appointment at the Cafe Riche.”

Although Hussein was profoundly disconcerted by Brett’s manner no less than his utterances, he could not well refuse to accord him a further audience, so Gaultier quitted the apartment and the Englishman and the Mussulman were left face to face.

Brett felt that the situation demanded a bold game.  Under some circumstances he knew that to throw away the scabbard and dash with naked sword into the fray was the right policy.

“I came to see you, Hussein-ul-Mulk,” he said, speaking deliberately, “not only because I have an interest in the progressive policy voiced by the young Turkish party, but on account of matters of personal interest to you, and to friends of mine in England.”

The Turk bowed silent recognition of the barrister’s motives.

“You are aware,” said Brett, “that a large number of valuable diamonds were stolen from the special Envoy of his Majesty the Sultan, in London, last Tuesday night, and that the theft was accompanied by the murder of four of the Sultan’s subjects and the abduction of a prominent official in the British Foreign Office?”

It is difficult for an olive-skinned man to turn pale, but Hussein-ul-Mulk did the next most effective thing for one of his race.  His face assumed a dirty green shade, and his full red lips whitened.

For some few seconds he strove hard to regain his composure and frame a reply, but Brett, nonchalantly puffing a cloud of smoke into the intervening space, and thus helping his hearer to control his emotions, went on

“Pray do not trouble to deny your knowledge of the fact.  It is far better for men of the world like you and me to discard subterfuge when engaged in grave and difficult negotiations.  I do not purpose wasting time by describing to you the details of a crime with which you are thoroughly acquainted.  Let me say, in a sentence, that my chief, perhaps my only, motive in coming here to-day is to secure the release of my friend Mr. Talbot from the place where he is at present confined, and at the same time to obtain from you a statement which will satisfactorily clear Mr. Talbot in the eyes of his superiors of all personal complicity in the Albert Gate incident.”

Again there was a breathless silence.

Hussein-ul-Mulk had regained his nerve.  He was now considering how best he could dispose of this Englishman who knew so much.  To purchase his silence was too hopeless.  He must die as speedily and unostentatiously as possible.  So he answered not, but thought hard as to ways and means.

Brett, in imminent danger of his life, disregarded all semblance of danger.  He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes in complete enjoyment of Hussein’s cigarettes, which were really excellent, and said, in the even, matter-of-fact tones of one who discusses an abstract problem

“Of course, my dear friend, you are thinking that the best answer you can give me is to strangle me or to shoot me, or adopt some other drastic remedy which finds favour in Constantinople.  But let me point out to you that this will be a serious error of judgment.  I have not come here without safeguarding my movements.  You are aware that Captain Gaultier, a trusted Foreign Office messenger, brought me here in person.  Some members of the British Government, and several important officials of Scotland Yard know that I am in your house and discussing this matter with you.  If any accident interferes with my future movements, you will simply precipitate a crisis quite lamentable in its results to yourself, to your association, and to your cause.  You will see, therefore, Hussein, that to kill me cannot really be thought of.  A man of your penetration and undoubted sagacity must surely admit this at once, and we can then proceed to discuss matters in a friendly and pleasant manner.”

At last Hussein found his tongue.  “I have never met you before, Mr. Brett,” he said, “but you interest me.”

Brett smiled and bowed in acknowledgment of the compliment.

“Of course, I admit nothing,” went on the Mohammedan.

“Of course.”

“Least of all do I admit that I contemplated any breach of hospitality towards yourself.”

Brett waved his hand in deprecation of such a pernicious thought.

“But you will understand,” went on Hussein-ul-Mulk, “that it is quite impossible for me to even attempt to discuss the very interesting facts you have brought to my notice without some inquiry on my part, and on yours some proof that the events concerning which you have informed me have really happened.  You see, one cannot trust newspapers.  They get such garbled accounts of occurrences, particularly of State affairs; they are misleading ”

“Excuse me, I am sure you will admit that although I dispensed with details in my brief statement, the facts were undeniable.  I can tell you exactly how and why Mehemet Ali and his two secretaries, together with Hussein, his confidential servant, were murdered.  But the circumstances were revolting, and need not be unduly discussed between gentlemen.  I can tell you how the diamonds were obtained from the Albert Gate mansion, and how they were conveyed to Paris.  But as they are probably in your possession, and the main object of your enterprise has thus been accomplished, it seems to me that all these otherwise dramatic effects are needless.  I have told you exactly the object of my visit, and I still await an answer.”

Hussein-ul-Mulk laughed a trifle uneasily.

“On my part, monsieur, I might attempt to question the extent of your knowledge, but as you are mistaken in one part of your summing-up of evidence, you may be wrong in others.”

“To what do you allude?”

The Mohammedan reflected for a moment, and then answered

“I can see no harm in telling you that I am not aware of any diamonds in which I am personally interested having arrived in Paris.”

“Indeed!” said Brett, leaning forward in his chair, and instantly dropping the listless air which had hitherto characterized his utterances.  “That is a very curious thing, because the diamonds have been in Paris at least two days, and if they are withheld from the possession of those who employed certain agents to secure them, there must be a powerful reason to account for the delay.  Speaking quite disinterestedly, monsieur, I would advise you to inquire into the matter at once.”

His words evidently perturbed the Turk.

“Will you object,” he said, “if I leave you alone a few minutes?  I wish to consult with a friend of mine who happens to be staying here.”

“Assuredly,” said Brett; “but let me beg you to leave your cigarettes behind.  They are exquisite.”

Hussein-ul-Mulk had never before encountered such a personality as Reginald Brett.  His eyebrows became perfectly oval with surprise and admiration for the man who could thus juggle with a dangerous situation.

“Here is my case,” he said, “and when we have concluded this most interesting conversation I hope you will leave me your address, so that I may have the extreme pleasure of sending you a few hundreds.”

Then he quitted the room.  He was absent fully five minutes.

On his return he said

“In the opinion of my friend, Mr. Brett, it is impossible for us to do anything at the present moment.  We must inquire; we must verify; we must consult others.  You will see that the negotiations you have undertaken require on our part some display of the extreme delicacy and tact in which you have given us so admirable a lesson.  Suppose, now, we agree to meet here again to-morrow at the same hour.  Am I to understand that what has transpired this morning remains, we will not say a secret, but a myth, a mere idle phantasy as between you and me?”

“That is precisely my idea,” said Brett.  “One hates to mention such a brutal word as ‘police’ in an affair demanding finesse.  Personally I hate the blunderers.  They rob life of its charm.  They have absolutely no conception of art.  Romance with them can end only in penal servitude or on the gallows.  Believe me, Hussein, I am very discreet.”  In another minute he was standing in the street, and inhaling generous draughts of the keen air of Paris.

“I wonder how much my life was worth during the first five minutes?” said he to himself; and then he made his way to a telegraph office, whence he despatched the following message

“TO THE EARL OF FAIRHOLME,
“STANHOPE GATE, LONDON.

“Have received definite intelligence which confirms my views.  Expect
our friend will be discovered within forty-eight hours.  If possible,
join me at Grand Hotel, Paris, to-night, eleven o’clock.

“BRETT.”