I had an interview with Father Loubet, as the French love to call their homely peasant-President; the man who has proved once more that sterling character counts for more in public life than rank or wealth or intellectual cleverness. Later on I had the honour of accompanying the ruler of Britain on his stately progress of peace. And as his coming was acclaimed in capital after capital, and the nations so long sundered by senseless rivalries shook hands, with their sovereigns, the angry Emperors realised that England’s ‘splendid isolation’ was over, and that she had resumed her historic _rôle_ of the champion of the weak, and protector of the liberties of Europe. The glittering jewel pinned to my breast by the great Monarch’s own hands was an unnecessary reward. To have served such a master was enough. XI THE HUMBERT MILLIONS The Humbert Case, like the Dreyfus Case, is a _chose jugée_. Thérèse Humbert, one of the greatest women of the century, who united the commanding personality of a Catherine the Great with the genius for intrigue of a Catherine de Medicis, has been formally tried and condemned, and is now secluded from the public eye. The journals of the Boulevards pretend to be satisfied; and their credulous readers are taught to believe that this remarkable affair was a vulgar swindle, and that the famous millions had no existence except in the mind of the arch-intriguer. It is under these circumstances that I find myself at length free to make an announcement which I foresee must provoke a storm of denial and denunciation. _I know what has become of the Humbert millions._ I do not make this declaration without having weighed the consequences. If my part in this affair could be brought home to me by legal proofs, it is possible that I should find myself in danger of a penalty such as has been meted out to Madame Humbert herself. I believe, however, that I have sufficiently secured myself against such a contingency. For many months past I have been engaged in a duel of a singular character with the famous head of the French police, M. Rattache: a duel of wits, in which the combatants have kept on the mask of friendship, while exchanging thrusts and parries with an assumption of perfect unconsciousness. In no step of her marvellous career, perhaps, did Thérèse Humbert show more sagacity than in establishing relations with myself. Accustomed as I am to act almost exclusively for crowned heads, or ministers of state, I was the agent least likely to be suspected of any connection with what wore the appearance of an ordinary police affair. With the same prudence which marked nearly all her actions, Madame Humbert refrained from coming to my office to engage my services, and from asking me to visit her. Instead, I received what appeared to be a casual invitation to dine with a banker, whom I will call Baron Y----.