The Englishman started. For a moment it seemed as if he would attack Merrill, who was the smaller man, but fear of the noise held him back. Meantime, the woman was riffling the trunk, holding up each object for her husband’s inspection. The latter stood at the door, his eyes upon both of the others. “We are not interested in Monsieur’s clothing,” he said calmly. “What else is there in the trunk? Nothing? The desk then. Only some papers? That is a pity. Let me have them, however—all of them. And you may give me the portfolio that lies on the bureau.” As he took the packet, the rider turned to the diplomat, who stood as if paralyzed, in the corner of the room. “I do not know what is in these papers, Monsieur, but I judge from your agitation that they are valuable. I shall take them from you as a warning—a warning to let married women alone in the future. Also I warn you not to try to bribe a man whom you have injured. You have made me very angry to-night by doing so. “Above all,” he added, “I warn you not to complain to the police about this matter. This is not a pretty story to tell about a man in your position—and I prepared to tell it. Good night, Monsieur.” He did not wait to hear the Englishman’s reply. * * * * * That night, while the two younger members of the Bishop family sped away on the train—to what place I do not know—and old Bishop expressed great mystification over their disappearance, I made a little bonfire in my grate of papers which had once been the property of the diplomat, and which I knew would be of no interest to my government. There were a few papers which I did not burn—a memorandum or two, and a bulky typewritten copy of Manuel’s diary, which I found amusing reading before I took it to Berlin. I called upon my English friend the next day but I did not see him. He had been taken ill, and had been obliged to leave Nice immediately. No, it was impossible to say what the ailment was. Ah, well, I thought, as I returned to my room, he would get over it. It was an embarrassing loss, but not a fatal one; and doubtless he could explain it satisfactorily at home. I was sorry for him, I confess. But more than once that day I laughed as I thought of the scene of last night, as Mlle. Bishop had described it to me. An old game—but it had worked so easily. But then, wasn’t it Solomon who complained about the lack of original material on this globe? The Diary? I took it to Berlin, as I have said, where it was a matter of considerable interest. Subsequently it was published, after discreet editing. But at that time I was engaged upon a matter of considerably more importance. CHAPTER V. _Germany displays an interest in Mexico, and aids the United States for her own purposes. The Japanese-Mexican treaty and its share in the downfall of Diaz._