There had been no robbery at the British Museum! That plausible concoction was as fictitious as the intentionally transparent tale of treasure trove. Carrados recognized now how ineffective the one device would have been without the other in drawing him--how convincing the two together--and while smarting at the humiliation of his plight he could not restrain a dash of admiration at the ingenuity--the accurately conjectured line of inference--of the plot. It was again the familiar artifice of the cunning pitfall masked by the clumsily contrived trap just beyond it. And straightway into it he had blundered! "And this," continued the same voice, "is Carrados, Max Carrados, upon whose perspicuity a government--only the present government, let me in justice say--depends to outwit the undesirable alien! My country; O my country!" "Is it really Monsieur Carrados?" inquired Dompierre in polite sarcasm. "Are you sure, Nina, that you have not brought a man from Scotland Yard instead?" "_Basta!_ he is here; what more do you want? Do not mock the poor sightless gentleman," answered Madame Dompierre, in doubtful sympathy. "That is exactly what I was wondering," ventured Carrados mildly. "I am here--what more do you want? Perhaps you, Mr Stoker----?" "Excuse me. 'Stoker' is a mere colloquial appellation based on a trifling incident of my career in connection with a disabled liner. The title illustrates the childish weakness of the criminal classes for nicknames, together with their pitiable baldness of invention. My real name is Montmorency, Mr Carrados--Eustace Montmorency." "Thank you, Mr Montmorency," said Carrados gravely. "We are on opposite sides of the table here to-night, but I should be proud to have been with you in the stokehold of the _Benvenuto_." "That was pleasure," muttered the Englishman. "This is business." "Oh, quite so," agreed Carrados. "So far I am not exactly complaining. But I think it is high time to be told--and I address myself to you--why I have been decoyed here and what your purpose is." Mr Montmorency turned to his accomplice. "Dompierre," he remarked, with great clearness, "why the devil is Mr Carrados kept standing?" "Ah, oh, heaven!" exclaimed Madame Dompierre with tragic resignation, and flung herself down on a couch. "_Scusi_," grinned the lean man, and with burlesque grace he placed a chair for their guest's acceptance. "Your curiosity is natural," continued Mr Montmorency, with a cold eye towards Dompierre's antics, "although I really think that by this time you ought to have guessed the truth. In fact, I don't doubt that you have guessed, Mr Carrados, and that you are only endeavouring to gain time. For that reason--because it will perhaps convince you that we have nothing to fear--I don't mind obliging you." "Better hasten," murmured Dompierre uneasily.