"Let us get married, _ma p'tite_. It is essential." And married they were forthwith, a priest and an official from the Mayor's office being in waiting at the hotel. Whilst they were signing the register Gros Jean motioned Brett to one side. "Allow me to thank you, M'sieu', for the kindness you have shown," he murmured. "Touching that hidden room in the Cabaret, now. Do the police really know of it? You were not joking?" "Not in the least." "Then, M'sieu', I accompany them to the Argentine," and he jerked his thumb towards Dubois and his wife. "Paris is no place for me." Soon after the ceremony Mme. Dubois asked to be allowed to visit Edith. When the two women met Marguerite flung herself impulsively on her knees and sobbed out a request for forgiveness. Miss Talbot should have been very angry with her erring sister. She was not. She took the keenest interest in the Frenchwoman's romantic history. They talked until Fairholme became impatient. He had not seen Edith for two whole hours. * * * * * Six months later, when the Earl and Countess of Fairholme returned from a prolonged wedding tour on the _Blue-Bell_ through the Norwegian fiords, Brett was invited to dinner. Talbot was there, of course, and Daubeney, and Sir Hubert. "Constantinople must be a queer place," observed Jack after the first rush of animated converse had exhausted itself. "Surely there are no more diamond mysteries on foot!" cried his charming sister, who looked delightfully well, and brown as a berry with the keen sea breezes of the hardy North. "Not exactly; but I made some inquiries through a friend of mine in the Legation. Hussein-ul-Mulk and his two Paris friends are quite important functionaries in the palace. You remember that the other pair of scoundrels escaped to Smyrna?" "Yes," cried everybody. "Well, Mehemet Ali's relatives heard the truth about them by some means. Within a reasonable time they were chopped into small pieces, with other details that need not be repeated." "Dogs, or pigs?" inquired Brett. "Dogs!" "I wish you wouldn't say such horrid things," protested Edith. "Is there any news of Monsieur and Madame Dubois, and the fat man Gros Jean?" "You will receive some in the drawing-room, Lady Fairholme," said Brett; and not another word of explanation would he give until dinner was ended. In the drawing-room her ladyship was delighted to find a splendid cockatoo, magnificent in size and white as snow, save for the brilliant red crest which he elevated when they all crowded round his handsome cage. "The happy couple in the Argentine sent him to me to be presented to you on your return," explained the barrister. "He is named 'Le Prophète,' and he talks beautifully--indeed, his language is most emphatic, but it is all French." "What a darling!" cried Edith. "I do wish he would say something. _Cher Prophète, parlez avec moi!_" And immediately the cockatoo stretched his wings and screamed--