"M'sieur--I--I--I faint, I die," he gasped, and to my astonishment he lurched forward and fell in a limp heap at my feet. I thought at first it was a trick, and held myself in readiness for a desperate struggle, for in good truth I dared not use my pistol. But the passing lamps showed me Jussieu's black face turned almost grey, and his staring eyes hideously upturned. The craven had swooned. I fell back chuckling with delight, for I had been until that moment wondering how on earth I could possibly contrive to force the brute into my hotel in case he should turn rusty and decline to accompany me. As it eventuated, Jussieu was carried, still unconscious, to my room by two burly porters, whose garrulous surprise, occasioned by so strange a service, I reduced to speechlessness with gold. It was five minutes to eleven when I got rid of them. I locked my door and approached the couch on which the negro lay. He was beginning to wake up. Hastily tearing a linen sheet into strips I succeeded in securely binding his hands and feet before he had properly regained his consciousness. I then fastened him to the couch and stood over him with my pistol cocked. He opened his eyes and blinked up at me. "In what pocket is the key of your master's door?" I demanded. "In the right hand side trouser pocket," he answered with a shudder. "Where is Sir Charles Venner at this moment?" "At home, monsieur, in bed, I think." "Does he know that you are out?" "Yes, m'sieur." "Where does he sleep?" "Upstairs, m'sieur, on the second floor, the second room on the left from the head of the staircase." "Thanks. And who else is there in the house?" "No--one, m'sieur." He closed his eyes. "Think, Jussieu!" I growled. "Where is Beudant, your brother negro?" He did not reply. "My hand is getting tired," I said coldly. "Let me remind you, Jussieu, that the pistol is furnished with a hair trigger." The threats galvanised him. "Beudant sleeps downstairs, on the ground floor," he cried. "And the others?" "There are no others, m'sieur." "You do badly to lie to me, Jussieu. Say your prayers, my man; you have just a minute to live." His face went grey, and his eyes almost started from his head. "Mercy, mercy!" he groaned. "I shall tell you the whole truth." "Quickly, then!" "A lady occupies the third floor with her servants--while my master, Beudant, and I dwell on the second floor----" He paused. "And the ground floor, Jussieu?" I cried impatiently. "It contains only living rooms, m'sieur. No one sleeps there."