“Guess he has gone to glue himself on to the Paris telephone,” commented Hooper, dryly. “Steindal’s stocks are mainly held in France. Let it once get round that he is cracked, and they will drop into the place beneath like the gentle dew from heaven.” Hooper’s perversion of Shakespeare was condoned by his knowledge of human nature. The telephone girl told me afterwards that the broker paid a fabulous sum for half an hour’s talk with Paris that night. “What will happen to Steindal, do you think?” I asked Karl. “He is gradually recovering. In less than an hour he will be all right. I expect the hotel people, knowing his identity, will put him to bed and send for a doctor. But he wants no doctor. He will clamor for a purveyor of guns and daggers.” “You believe he will plan vengeance against you?” “Most decidedly. He is no coward. His mother was a Mexican dancer. She taught him to throw a knife before he learnt the alphabet. Ask him the meaning of _la cuchillada_ and you will see his eyes glisten.” Here was a nice outcome of a freak worthy of some light-headed schoolboy with a taste for practical joking. In addition to his other troubles, Karl had saddled himself with a mortal feud. “Oh,” I cried in a sudden heat, “this is intolerable. What a counselor your father brought from Heidelberg when he summoned me!” “Have no fear,” said Karl, toying with a salad; “Steindal cannot injure me. The little beast! I could paralyze his uplifted hand.” Karl could do that, I knew. Nevertheless, I was a prey to disquieting thoughts. Hooper, blessed with a temperament which could take an equable view of the Day of Judgment, began to review events in his practical way. “I can credit you with accomplishing almost anything in the present tense, Karl,” he said; “but I am taken out of my stride when you dip into history. How did you know Steindal had been a circus acrobat?” “_You_ knew.” “Yes. Some one told me years ago. I thought of it while he was singing, but I have never mentioned it to you.” Karl smiled wearily. “That was enough,” he said. “My dear fellow, can you read my thoughts?” “A little while ago I read the thoughts of every living being in this room. And what is more, I supplied the thoughts of most of them. Now, I would like to forget Steindal. Why did you fail to let me know you were in Paris?” “I have a notion that any giving of information on my part would be kind of superfluous,” laughed Hooper. “You are mistaken. Here you are at my mercy; in Paris you are safe. The world holds nearly two thousand millions of people. Except under special circumstances, I cannot pretend to single out individuals.”