At the moment that I saw Hayle enter my room, you might, as the saying goes, have knocked me down with a feather. Of all that could possibly have happened, this was surely the most unexpected! The man had endeavoured to get me out of his way in London, he had played all sorts of tricks upon me in order to put me off the scent, he had bolted from England because he knew I was searching for him, yet here he was deliberately seeking me out, and of his own free will putting his head into the lion’s mouth. It was as astounding as it was inexplicable.

“Good morning, Mr. Fairfax,” he said, bowing most politely to me as he spoke. “I hope you will forgive this early call. I only discovered your address an hour ago, and as I did not wish to run the risk of losing you I came on at once.”

“You appeared to be fairly desirous of doing so last week,” I said. “What has occurred to make you change your mind so suddenly?”

“A variety of circumstances have conspired to bring such a result about,” he answered. “I have been thinking the matter over, and not being able to determine the benefit of this hole-and-corner sort of game, I have made up my mind to settle it once and for all.”

“I am glad you have come to that way of thinking,” I said. “It will save us both an infinity of trouble. You understand, of course, that I represent Messrs. Kitwater and Codd.”

“I am well aware of it,” he replied, “and in common fairness to yourself, I can only say that I am sorry to hear it.”

“May I ask why you are sorry?”

“Because you have the honour to represent the biggest pair of scoundrels unhung,” he answered. “And in saying this, I pledge you my word that I am by no means overstepping the mark. I have known them both for a great many years and can therefore speak from experience.”

Before going further with him I was desirous of convincing myself upon one point.

“You knew them, then, when they were missionaries in China, I suppose?”

“That’s the first time I have ever heard what they were,” he replied. “Kitwater a missionary! You must forgive my laughing, but the idea is too ludicrous. I’ll admit he’s done a considerable amount of converting, but it has been converting other people’s money into his own pockets.”

He laughed at his own bad joke, and almost instantly grew serious once more. He was quite at his ease, and, though he must have known that I was familiar with the story, or supposed story of his villainy, seemed in no way ashamed.

“Now, Mr. Fairfax,” he went on, “I know that you are surprised to see me this morning, but I don’t think you will be when we have had a little talk together. First and foremost you have been told the story of the stones I possess?”

“I have heard Mr. Kitwater’s version of it,” I answered cautiously. “I know that you robbed my clients of them and then disappeared!”

“I did not rob them of the stones,” he said, not in the least offended by the bluntness of my speech. “It is plain that you do not know how we obtained them. Perhaps it’s as well that you should not, for there’s more behind, and you’d go and get them. No! We obtained them honestly enough at a certain place, and I was appointed to carry them. For this reason I secured them in a belt about my waist. That night the Chinese came down upon us and made us prisoners. They murdered our two native servants, blinded Kitwater, and cut out Codd’s tongue. I alone managed to effect my escape. Leaving my two companions for dead, I managed to get away into the jungle. Good Heavens! man, you can’t imagine what I suffered after that.”

I looked at him and saw that his face had grown pale at the mere recollection of his experiences.

“At last I reached the British outpost of Nampoung, on the Burmah-Chinese border, where the officers took me in and played the part of the good Samaritan. When I was well enough to travel, I made my way down to Rangoon, where, still believing my late companions to be dead, I shipped for England.”

“As Mr. George Bertram,” I said quietly. “Why under an assumed name when, according to your story, you had nothing to fear?”

“Because I had good and sufficient reason for so doing,” he replied. “You must remember that I had a quarter of a million’s worth of precious stones in my possession, and, well, to put it bluntly, up to that time I had been living what you might call a make-shift sort of life. For the future I told myself I was going to be a rich man. That being so I wanted to start with a clean sheet. You can scarcely blame me!”

I did not answer him on this point, but continued my cross-examination.

“You reached London, and sold some of the stones there, later on you disposed of some more in Amsterdam. Why did you refuse the dealers your name and address?”

Once more he was quite equal to the occasion.

“Because if I had told them, everybody would have got to know it, and, to be perfectly frank with you, I could not feel quite certain that Kitwater and Codd were really dead.”

“By that I am to presume that you intended if possible to swindle them out of their share?” I asked, not a little surprised by his admission.

“Once more, to be quite frank with you, I did. I have no desire to be rude, but I rather fancy you would have done the same had you been similarly situated. I never was much of a success in the moral business.”

I could well believe this, but I did not tell him so.

“When did you first become aware that they were in London?”

“On the day that they landed,” he answered. “I watched every ship that came in from Rangoon, and at last had the doubtful satisfaction of seeing my two old friends pass out of the dock-gates. Poor beggars, they had indeed had a hard time of it.”

“Then you could pity them? Even while you were robbing them?”

“Why not,” he answered. “There was no reason because I had the stones that I should not feel sorry for the pain they had suffered. I had to remember how near I’d been to it myself.”

This speech sounded very pretty though somewhat illogical.

“And pray how did you know that they had called in my assistance?”

“Because I kept my eyes on them. I know Mr. Kitwater of old, you see. I watched them go into your office and come out from a shop on the other side of the street.”

The whole mystery was now explained. What an amount of trouble I should have been spared had I only known this before?

“You did not approve then of my being imported into the case?”

“I distinctly disapproved,” he answered. “I know your reputation, of course, and I began to see that if you took up their case for them I should in all probability have to climb down.”

“It is doubtless for that reason you called upon me, representing yourself to be Mr. Bayley, Managing Director of that South American Mining Company? I can now quite understand your motive. You wanted to get me out of the way in order that I might not hunt you? Is that not so?”

“You hit the nail upon the head exactly. But you were virtuous, and would not swallow the bait. It would have simplified matters from my point of view if you had. I should not have been compelled to waste my money upon those two roughs, nor would you have spent an exceedingly uncomfortable quarter of an hour in that doorway in Holywell street.”

This was news indeed. So he had been aware of my presence there? I put the question to him.

“Oh! Yes! I knew you were there,” he said with a laugh. “And I can tell you I did not like the situation one bit. As a matter of fact I found that it required all my nerve to pretend that I did not know it. Every moment I expected you to come out and speak to me. I can assure you the failure of my plot was no end of a disappointment to me. I had expected to see the men I had sent after you, and instead I found you myself.”

“Upon my word, Mr. Hayle, if I cannot appreciate your actions I must say I admire your candour. I can also add that in a fairly long experience of of

“Why not say of criminals at once, Mr. Fairfax?” he asked with a smile. “I assure you I shall not be offended. We have both our own views on this question, and you of course are entitled to air yours if it pleases you. You were about to observe that

“That in all my experience I had never met any one who could so calmly own to an attempt to murder a fellow-being. But supposing we now come to business.”

“With all my heart,” he answered. “I am as anxious as yourself to get everything settled. You will admit that it is rather hard lines on a man who can lay his hands upon a quarter of a million of money, to have a gentleman like yourself upon his trail, and, instead of being able to enjoy himself, to be compelled to remain continually in hiding. I am an individual who likes to make the most of his life. I also enjoy the society of my fellow-men.”

“May we not substitute ’woman’?” I asked. “I am afraid your quarter of a million would not last very long if you had much to do with Mademoiselle Beaumarais.”

“So you have heard of her, have you?” he answered. “But you need have no fear. Dog does not eat dog, and that charming lady will not despoil me of very much! Now to another matter! What amount do you think your clients would feel inclined to take in full settlement of their claim upon me?”

“I cannot say,” I answered. “How many of the gems have you realized upon?”

“There were ninety-three originally,” he said when he had consulted his pocket-book, “and I have sold sixty, which leaves a balance of thirty-three, all of which are better than any I have yet disposed of. Will your clients be prepared to accept fifty thousand pounds, of course, given without prejudice.”

“Your generosity amazes me,” I answered. “My clients, your partners, are to take twenty-five thousand pounds apiece, while you get off, scot-free, after your treatment of them, with two hundred thousand.”

“They may consider themselves lucky to get anything at all,” he retorted. “Run your eye over the case, and see how it stands. You must know as well as I do that they haven’t a leg to stand upon. If I wanted to be nasty, I should say let them prove that they have a right to the stones. They can’t call in the assistance of the law

“Why not?”

“Because to get even with me it would be necessary for them to make certain incriminating admissions, and to call certain evidence that would entail caustic remarks from a learned judge, and would not improbably lead to a charge of murder being preferred against them. No, Mr. Fairfax, I know my own business, and, what is better, I know theirs. If they like to take fifty thousand pounds, and will retire into obscurity upon it, I will pay it to them, always through you. But I won’t see either of them, and I won’t pay a halfpenny more than I have offered.”

“You don’t mean to tell me that you are in earnest?”

“I am quite in earnest,” he answered. “I never was more so. Will you place my offer before them, or will you not?”

“I will write and also wire them to-day,” I said. “But I think I know exactly what they will say.”

“Point out the applicability of the moral concerning the bird in the hand. If they don’t take what they can get now, the time may come when there may be nothing at all. I never was a very patient man, and I can assure you most confidentially, that I am about tired of this game.”

“But how am I to know that this is not another trick on your part, and that you won’t be clearing out of Paris within a few hours? I should present a sorry picture if my clients were to accept your generous offer, and I had to inform them that you were not on hand to back it up.”

“Oh, you needn’t be afraid about that,” he said with a laugh. “I am not going to bilk you. Provided you play fair by me, I will guarantee to do the same by you. With the advantages I at present enjoy, I am naturally most anxious to know that I can move about Europe unmolested. Besides, you can have me watched, and so make sure of me. There is that beautiful myrmidon of yours, who is so assiduously making love to Mademoiselle Beaumarais’s maid. Give him the work.”

I was more than surprised to find that he knew about this business. He saw it, and uttered one of his peculiar laughs.

“He didn’t think I knew it,” he said. “But I did! His cleverness is a little too marked. He overacts his parts, and even Shakespeare will tell you how foolish a proceeding that is. If you doubt my word concerning my stay in Paris, let him continue to watch me. You know where I am living, and for that reason you can come and see me whenever you like. As a proof of my sincerity, may I suggest that you give me the pleasure of your company at dinner to-night. Oh, you needn’t be afraid. I’m not a Cæsar Borgia. I shall not poison your meat, and your wine will not be drugged. It will be rather a unique experience, detective and criminal dining together, will it not? What do you say?”

The opportunity was so novel, that I decided to embrace it. Why should I not do so since it was a very good excuse for keeping my man in sight? He could scarcely play me any tricks at a fashionable restaurant, and I was certainly curious to study another side of this man’s complex character. I accordingly accepted his invitation, and promised to meet him at the well-known restaurant he named that evening.

“In the meantime you will telegraph to your clients, I suppose,” he said. “You may be able to give me their reply this evening when we meet.”

“I shall hope to be in a position to do so,” I answered, after which he bade me good-bye, and picking up his hat and stick left the room.

“Well,” I said to myself when I was alone once more, “this is the most extraordinary case upon which I have ever been engaged. My respect for Mr. Hayle’s readiness of resource, to say nothing of his impudence, is increasing by leaps and bounds. The man is not to be met every day who can rob his partners of upwards of a hundred and seventy thousand pounds, and then invite the detective who is sent after him to a friendly dinner.”

I sat down and wrote a letter to Miss Kitwater, telling her all that had occurred; then went out to despatch it with a telegram to Kitwater himself, informing him of the offer Hayle had made. I could guess the paroxysm of rage into which it would throw him, and I would willingly have spared his niece the pain such an exhibition must cause her. I could see no other way out of it, however. The message having been despatched, I settled myself down to wait for a reply, with all the patience I could command. In my own mind I knew very well what it would be. It was not so much the money that Kitwater wanted, as revenge. That Hayles most miserable offer would only increase his desire for it, I felt certain. Shortly after three oclock, the reply arrived. It was short, and to the point, and ran as follows

“Tell him I will have all or nothing.”

Here was a nice position for a man to find himself in. Instead of solving the difficulty we had only increased it. I wondered what Hayle would say when he heard the news, and what his next step would be. That he would endeavour to bolt again, I felt quite certain. It was a point in my favour, however, that he would not know until the evening what Kitwater’s decision was, so I felt I had still some time to arrange my plan of action. Of one thing I was quite determined, and that was that he should be watched day and night from that minute, but not by Mr. Dickson. That worthy I bade return to England, and his rage on discovering that Mademoiselle Beaumarais’s maid had tricked him, would have been amusing to witness, had the principal event in which I was most concerned not been so grave. The expressions he used about her were certainly far from being complimentary.

Feeling that I must have other assistance, I set off for my friend Leglosse’s residence. I had the good fortune to meet him by the concierge’s lodge, and we ascended the stairs to his rooms together.

“I have come to ask you to do me a favour,” I said, when we were seated in his sitting-room.

“A thousand favours if you wish, cher ami,” the old fellow replied. “Tell me how I can have the pleasure of serving you.”

“I want you to lend me one of your men for a few days,” I said. “I have to send my own man back to England, and I am afraid the gentleman we were discussing last night may give me the slip in the meantime if I’m not careful.”

The better to enable him to appreciate the position, I furnished him with a brief summary of the case upon which I was engaged.

“And so you are to dine with your prisoner to-night?” he remarked, with one of his quiet chuckles. “That is droll very droll. It is very good for you that it is at such a place, or I should have my doubts as to the rascal’s intentions. But you are well able to take care of yourself, my friend; that I know.”

“And the man?”

“You shall have him. You shall have half-a-dozen if you like. I am only too pleased to be able to help in such a good work. You shall have Pierre Lepallard, my right-hand. I cannot give you a better. Nothing escapes Pierre, and he is discreet, oh, yes, my friend, he is discreet. He will not obtrude himself, but he will know all that your friend does, to whom he speaks, what he said to him, and sometimes even what he intends doing before he does it.”

“In that case he is just the man for me,” I replied. “I am exceedingly obliged to you for your considerate courtesy. Some day I may be able to repay it.”

Within half-an-hour the estimable Lepallard had been made acquainted with his duties, and within an hour a ragged tatterdemalion of a man was selling matches on the opposite side of the road to that on which Hayle’s apartments were situated.

I reached the restaurant at which we were to dine that evening punctual to the moment, only to find that Hayle had not yet arrived. For a minute I was tempted to wonder whether he had given me the slip again, but while the thought was passing through my mind a cab drove up, and the gentleman himself alighted.

“I must beg your pardon for keeping you waiting,” he said apologetically. “As your host I should have been here first. That would have been the case had I not been detained at the last moment by an old friend. Pray forgive me!”

I consented to do so, and we entered the restaurant together.

I discovered that he had already engaged a table, arranged the menu, and bespoken the wines. We accordingly sat down, and the strangest meal of which I had ever partaken commenced. Less than a week before, the man sitting in front of me had endeavoured to bring about my destruction; now he was my host, and to all outward appearances my friend as well. I found him a most agreeable companion, a witty conversationalist, and a born raconteur. He seemed to have visited every part of the known globe; had been a sailor, a revolutionist in South America, a blackbirder in the Pacific, had seen something of what he called the “Pig-tail trade” to Bornéo, some very queer life in India, that is to say, in the comparatively unknown native states and had come within an ace of having been shot by the French during the war in Madagascar.

“In point of fact,” he said, “I may say that I have travelled from Dan to Beersheba, and, until I struck this present vein of good fortune, had found all barren. Some day, if I can summon up sufficient courage, I shall fit out an expedition and return to the place whence the stones came, and get some more, but not just at present. Events have been a little too exciting there of late to let us consider it a healthy country. By the way, have you heard from our friend, Kitwater, yet?”

“I have,” I answered, “and his reply is by no means satisfactory.”

“I understand you to mean that he will not entertain my offer?”

I nodded my head.

“He must have ‘all or nothing,’ he declares. That is the wording of the telegram I received.”

“Well, he knows his own affairs best. The difference is a large one, and will materially affect his income. Will you take Creme de Minthe Kuemmel or Cognac?”

“Cognac, thank you,” I replied, and that was the end of the matter.

During the remainder of the evening not another word was said upon the subject. We chatted upon a variety of topics, but neither the matter of the precious stones nor even Kitwater’s name was once mentioned. I could not help fancying, however, that the man was considerably disappointed at the non-acceptance of his preposterous offer. He had made a move on the board, and had lost it. I knew him well enough, however, by this time to feel sure that he by no means despaired yet of winning the game. Men of Gideon Hayle’s stamp are hard to beat.

“Now,” he said, when we had smoked our cigarettes, and after he had consulted his watch, “The night is still young. What do you say if we pay a visit to a theatre the Hippodrome, for instance. We might wile away an hour there very pleasantly if you feel so disposed.”

I willingly consented, and we accordingly left the restaurant. Once we were in the street Hayle called a cab, gave the man his instructions, and we entered it. Chatting pleasantly, and still smoking, we passed along the brilliantly illuminated Boulevards. I bestowed little, if any, attention on the direction in which we were proceeding. Indeed, it would have been difficult to have done so for never during the evening had Hayle been so agreeable. A more charming companion no man could have desired. It was only on chancing to look out of the window that that I discovered that we were no longer in the gaily-lighted thoroughfares, but were entering another and dingier part of the town.

“What is the matter with the driver?” I asked. “Doesn’t he know what he is about? This is not the way to the Hippodrome! He must have misunderstood what you said to him. Shall I hail him and point out his mistake?”

“No, I don’t think it is necessary for you to do that,” he replied. “Doubtless he will be on the right track in a few minutes. He probably thinks if he gives us a longer ride, he will be able to charge a proportionately larger fare at the end. The Parisian cabby is very like his London brother.”

He then proceeded to describe to me an exceedingly funny adventure that had fallen him once in Chicago. The recital lasted some minutes, and all the time we were still pursuing our way in a direction exactly opposite to that which I knew we should be following. At last I could stand it no longer.

“The man’s obviously an idiot,” I said, “and I am going to tell him so.”

“I shouldn’t do that, Mr. Fairfax,” said Hayle in a different voice to that in which he had previously addressed me. “I had my own reasons for not telling you before, but the matter has already been arranged. The man is only carrying out his instructions.”

“What do you mean by already arranged?” I asked, not without some alarm.

“I mean that you are my prisoner, Mr. Fairfax,” he said. “You see, you are rather a difficult person to deal with, if I must pay you such a compliment, and one has to adopt heroic measures in order to cope with you.”

“Then you’ve been humbugging me all this time,” I cried; “but you’ve let the cat out of the bag a little too soon. I think I’ll bid you good-bye.”

I was about to rise from my seat and open the door, but he stopped me. In his hand he held a revolver, the muzzle of which was in unpleasant proximity to my head.

“I must ask you to be good enough to sit down,” he said. “You had better do so, for you cannot help yourself. If you attempt to make a fuss I pledge you my word I shall shoot you, let the consequences to myself be what they may. You know me, and you can see that I am desperate. My offer to those men was only a bluff. I wanted to quiet any suspicions you might have in order that I might get you into my hands. As you can see for yourself, I could not have succeeded better than I have done. I give you my word that you shall not be hurt, provided that you do not attempt to escape or to call for help. If you do, then you know exactly what you may expect, and you will have only yourself to blame. Be a sensible man, and give in to the inevitable.”

He held too many cards for me. I could see at a glance that I was out-manoeuvred, and that there was nothing to be gained by a struggle. I don’t think I can be accused of cowardice; my reputation is too well known for that. But I do decidedly object to being shot by a desperate man, when there is not the least necessity for it.

“Very well,” I said, lying back in my seat, “you have played your game with your usual cleverness, and I suppose I deserve what I have got for having been such a consummate idiot as to give you the opportunity you wanted. Now, what are you going to do, and where are you going to take me?”

“You will know everything in a few minutes,” he answered. “In the meantime I am glad to see that you take things so sensibly. In after days you will laugh over this little incident.”

“Whatever I may think in the future,” I replied, “just at present it is confoundedly unpleasant.”

Ten minutes later the cab came to a standstill, there was the sound of opening gates, and a moment later we drove into a stone-paved courtyard.