"That's just it," I answered: "and, M. de Cartienne, now that you have spoken to me of it, I will tell you something. Your son does play a good deal with Lord Silchester. I know that this is so, for I have played myself occasionally." "And Lord Silchester wins, I presume?" Something in the Count's tone as he asked the question, and something in his face as I glanced up, did not please me. Both seemed to tell the same tale, both somehow seemed to imply that his question to me was altogether sarcastic, and that he knew the contrary to be the case. It was the first gleam of mistrust which I had felt towards my new acquaintance, and it did not last, for the expression of deep concern and annoyance with which he heard my answer seemed too natural to be assumed. "On the contrary, your son always wins," I told him drily. His finely-pencilled dark eyebrows almost met in a heavy frown, and he threw his cigarette away impatiently. "I'm very much obliged to you, Mr. Morton, for answering my question," he said; "but I needn't tell you that I'm very sorry to hear what you say. Something must be done with Mr. Leonard at once." He lit another cigarette and threw himself back in a corner of the divan. Then I made up my mind to speak to him on the subject which was uppermost in my mind. "You know a Mr. Marx, I believe? I was inquiring for him at the hotel office this afternoon, and they told me that you were forwarding his letters. Could you give me his address?" M. de Cartienne removed his cigarette from his teeth, and looked dubious. "Yes, I know Marx; know him well," he admitted; "but your request puts me in rather an awkward position. You see, this is how the matter lies," he added, leaning forward confidentially. "Marx and I are old friends, and he's been of great service to me more than once, and never asked for any return. Well, I met him--I won't say when, but it wasn't long ago--in Pall Mall, and he hailed me as the very man he was most anxious to meet. We lunched together, and then he told me what he wanted. He was in London for a short while, he said, and wished to remain perfectly incognito. There would be letters for him, he said, at the Metropole. Would I fetch them, and forward them to him at an address which he would give me, on condition that I gave him my word of honour to keep it secret? I asked, naturally, what reason he had for going into hiding; for virtually that is what it seemed to me to be; but he would give me no definite answer. Would I do him this favour or not? he asked. And, remembering the many services which he had rendered me, I found it quite impossible to refuse. That is my position. I'm really extremely sorry not to be able to help you, but you see for yourself that I cannot." His tone was perfectly serious and his manner earnest. I had not the faintest shadow of doubt as to his sincerity. "You can't help me at all then?" I said, no doubt with some of the disappointment which I felt in my tone.