I had asked the Frenchman, rather angrily I fear, why he was following me, whereat he merely bowed with the exquisite politeness of his race, and replied in good English-- "I was not aware of following m'sieur. I regret extremely if I have caused annoyance. I ask a thousand pardons." "Well, your surveillance upon me annoys me," I declared abruptly. "I saw you spying upon me in Manchester this afternoon, and you have followed me to London!" "Ah, yes," he replied, with a slight gesticulation; "it is true that I was in Manchester. But our meeting here must be by mere chance. I was unaware that monsieur was in Manchester," he assured me in a suave manner. "Well," I said in French, "yours is a very lame story, monsieur. I saw you, and you also saw me talking to Mr. Pennington in the Midland Hotel. Perhaps you'll deny that you know Mr. Pennington--eh?" "I certainly do not deny that," he said, with a smile. "I have known Monsieur Penning-ton for some years. It is true that I saw him at the Midland." "And you withdrew in order to escape his observation--eh?" "Monsieur has quick eyes," he said. "Yes, that is quite true." "Why?" "For reasons of my own." "And you deny having followed me here?" He hesitated for a second, looking straight into my face in the darkness. "Come," I said, "you may as well admit that you followed me from Manchester." "Why should I admit what is not the truth?" he asked. "What motive could I have to follow you--a perfect stranger?" "Well, as a matter of fact, I'm a bit suspicious," I declared, still speaking in French. "Of late there was a desperate attempt upon my life." "By whom?" he inquired quickly. "Please tell me, Monsieur Biddulph; I am greatly interested in this." "Then you know my name?" I exclaimed, surprised. "Certainly." "Why are you interested in me?" "I may now have a motive," was his calm yet mysterious reply. "Tell me in what manner an attempt has been made upon you?" At first I hesitated, then, after a second's reflection, I explained the situation in a few words. "Ah! Of course, I quite see that monsieur's mind must be filled by suspicion," he responded; "yet I regret if I have been the cause of any annoyance. By the way, how long have you known Monsieur Penning-ton?" "Oh, some months," I replied. "The fact is, I'm engaged to his daughter." "His daughter!" echoed the Frenchman, looking at me quickly with a searching glance. Then he gave vent to a low grunt, and stroked his grey pointed beard. "And it was after this engagement that the attempt was made upon you--eh?" he inquired. "No, before." The foreigner remained silent for a few moments. He seemed considerably puzzled. I could not make him out. The fact that he was acquainted with my name showed that he was unduly interested in me, even though he had partially denied it. "Why do you ask this?" I demanded, as we still stood together at the bottom of St. James's Street.