"Well, it was proved conclusively that he was a member of a very dangerous gang of criminals who for several years had committed some of the most clever and audacious thefts. The organization consisted of over thirty men and women, of varying ages, all of them expert jewel thieves, safe-breakers, or card-sharpers. Twice each year this interesting company held meetings--at which every member was present--and at such meetings certain members were allotted certain districts, or certain profitable pieces of business. Thus, if half-a-dozen were to-day operating in London as thieves or receivers, they would change, and in a week would be operating in St. Petersburg, while those from Russia would be here. So cleverly was the band organized that it was practically impossible for the police to make arrests. It was a more widespread and wealthy criminal organization than has ever before been unearthed. But the arrest of your friend Harriman, alias Bell, on a charge of murder was the means of exposing the conspiracy, and the ultimate breaking up of the gang." "And what of Bell?" "He narrowly escaped the guillotine, and is now imprisoned for life at Devil's Island." "And you saw him with me at Paris?" I remarked, in wonder at this strange revelation. "He certainly never struck me as an assassin. He was a shrewd man--a swindler, no doubt, but his humorous bearing and his good-nature were entirely opposed to the belief that his was a sinister nature." "Yet it was proved beyond the shadow of a doubt that he and another man killed and robbed a young Englishman named Burke," responded the Frenchman. "Perhaps you, yourself, had a narrow escape. Who knows? It was no doubt lucky for you that he was arrested." "But I understood that the charge was one of fraud," I said. "I intended to go to the trial, but I was called to Italy." "The charge of fraud was made in order not to alarm his accomplice," replied the stranger. "How do you know that?" I inquired. "Well"--he hesitated--"that came out at the trial. There were full accounts of it in the Paris _Matin_." "I don't care for reading Assize Court horrors," I replied, still puzzled regarding my strange companion's intimate knowledge concerning the man whose dramatic and sudden arrest had, on that memorable afternoon, so startled me. "When I saw your face just now," he said, "I recognized you as being at the Grand Hotel with Bell. Do you know," he laughed, "you were such a close friend of the accused that you were suspected of being a member of the dangerous association! Indeed, you very narrowly escaped arrest on suspicion. It was only because the reception clerk in the hotel knew you well, and vouched for your respectability and that Biddulph was your real name. Yet, for a full week, you were watched closely by the _surete_." "And I was all unconscious of it!" I cried, realizing how narrowly I had escaped a very unpleasant time. "How do you know all this?" I asked.