"All I can say," Mr. Bundercombe declared, as he drew away from the note, which he had been examining, "is that I do not wonder you were deceived, Mr. Giatron. This note is the most perfect imitation I have ever seen in my life. A wicked piece of work, sir!" "You recognize the fact, however, that the note is beyond question counterfeit?" Mr. Giatron persisted. "I fear you are right," Mr. Bundercombe admitted. "There is a slight imperfection. Yes, yes--a very bad business, Mr. Giatron! We must come here often and try to see whether we cannot make you a second Luigi." Giatron returned to the safe with the note, which he carefully locked up. "Very excellent brandy!" Mr. Bundercombe pronounced warmly. "You will see a great deal more of us, my friend. I promise you that. We shall haunt you!" Mr. Giatron bowed to the ground. "You are always very welcome--and the young lady!" We rejoined Eve, paid our bill, and made our way to the door. Louis, looking very pathetic, was in the background. Mr. Bundercombe beckoned to him. "Louis, you can give your shark of an employer a week's notice to-night! I have the note in my pocket," he whispered. "It's cost me a good one; but I owed you that. On Monday week, Louis, I shall order my dinner from you at Luigi's." The man's face was wonderful! He came a little closer. He was shaking at the knees, his hands were trembling, and his mouth was twitching. "Mr. Bundercombe," he pleaded hoarsely, "you would not deceive me!" Mr. Bundercombe looked at him steadfastly. "On my honor, Louis, the note is in my pocket, already torn in four pieces when I put my hand into my waistcoat pocket to pay my bill. In three minutes it will be in a hundred pieces--gone! You need have no fear. The note Mr. Giatron is guarding so carefully is a very excellent ten-pound note of my own." At a quarter to eight on the following Monday week Mr. Bundercombe and I entered Luigi's restaurant. Louis himself advanced to greet us--the old Louis, whose linen was irreproachable, whose bearing and deportment and gracious smile all denoted the Louis of old. Mr. Bundercombe ordered dinner and beckoned Louis to come a little nearer. "Was there any trouble?" he inquired. "For me, no," Louis replied; "but Monsieur Giatron--never, never have I seen a man like it! He fetched out the note. 'Now,' he said, 'I take your notice! You take mine! Ring up the police! Or shall I?' "Then I tell him. I say: 'I don't believe the note bad at all!' He laughed at me. He got it from the safe and laid it on the desk. 'Not bad!' he jeered. 'Not bad!' Then he stood looking at it. "Mr. Bundercombe, I see his face change. His mouth came wide open; his eyes looked as though they would drop out. He bend over that note. He looked at it and looked at it; and then he looked at me.