"I do, then. Make certain she's at 'The Twisted Arm,' waiting, first, for the coming of Clodoche, and, second, for the arrival of this precious 'Merode' with the remaining half of the document. I've sent Dollops there to carry out his part of the programme, and when once I get the password Margot requires before she will hand over the paper, the game will be in my hands entirely. They are desperate to-night, Miss Lorne, and will stop at nothing--not even murder. There! the rug's replaced. Quick! lead me to the baron's room--there's not a minute to waste." She took his hand and led him tiptoe through the darkness, and in another moment he was in the Baron de Carjorac's presence. "Oh, monsieur, God for ever bless you!" exclaimed the broken old man, throwing himself on his knees before Cleek. "Out with the light--out with the light!" exclaimed he, ducking down suddenly. "Were you mad to keep it burning till I came, with that"--pointing to a huge bay window opening upon a balcony--"uncurtained and the grounds, no doubt, alive with spies?" Miss Lorne sprang to the table where the baron's reading-lamp stood, jerked the cord of the extinguisher, and darkness enveloped the room, darkness tempered only by the faint gleams of the moon streaming over the balcony, and through the panes of the uncurtained window. Cleek, on his knees beside the kneeling baron, whipped a tiny electric torch from his pocket, and, shielding its flare with his scooped hands, flashed it upon the old man's face. "Simple as rolling off a log--exactly like your pictures," he commented. "I'll 'do' you as easily as I 'do' Clodoche--and I could 'do' him in the dark from memory. Quick"--snicking off the light of the electric torch and rising to his feet--"into your dressing-room, baron. I want that suit of clothes; I want that ribbon, that cross--and I want them at once. You're a bit thicker-set than me, but I've got my Clodoche rig on underneath this, and it will fill out your coat admirably and make us as like as two peas. Give me five minutes, Miss Lorne, and I promise you a surprise." He flashed out of sight with the baron as he ceased speaking; and Ailsa, creeping to the window and peering cautiously out, was startled presently by a voice at her elbow saying, in a tone of extreme agitation: "Oh, mademoiselle, I fear, even yet I fear, that this Anglais monsieur attempts too much, and that the papier he is gone for ever." "Oh, no, baron, no!" she soothed, as she laid a solicitous hand upon his arm. "Do believe in him; do have faith in him. Ah, if you only knew--"