"I know nothing of that, monsieur," said the little man, who seemed to be strangely crestfallen, "but I am telling you the truth this time. It was he who sent me the day before yesterday to the Rue Barbette, and again yesterday, although I was very unwilling to go the second time, because, as this gentleman will tell you, they looked very like murdering me on the first occasion." "What was the object of your visit yesterday?" said Brett. "There, monsieur, I have told you the truth, although monsieur the commissary here thinks it was childish. My instructions really were to ask them to meet him on the Pont Neuf at 6.30 p.m., when he said he would explain everything to their satisfaction. But, above all, I was to warn them to beware of the Englishman." "Then, why should they seize and gag you for conveying such a simple message?" demanded the commissary. "I cannot tell. I have done them no harm. Believe me, gentlemen both, I have not the slightest idea how these diamonds were obtained, or why there should be such a fuss about them. All I know is that these Turks are desperate fellows, and you won't catch me going near them again, I swear." "How long have you known Dubois?" said Brett. "Oh, two years more or less." "Have you ever been associated with him before?" "Never, monsieur. My record is there." And he again jerked his thumb towards the volume on the table. "It will tell you that I deal in small affairs. Dubois is an artist. If he found a woman's purse in the street he would return it to her with a bow, if she were rich and handsome--and with some francs added, if she were poor." "I know little about him," he continued, "except that he is a great man. They say that he once robbed the Bank of France of 200,000 francs!" And the little wretch's voice became tremulous with admiration as he recounted the legend. "He is a favoured lover of La Belle Chasseuse?" demanded Brett sharply. "The Worm" recovered his equanimity somewhat at this question. He softly drew his hand over his chin as he replied with a smirk: "There are others!" "I think not," came the quick retort. "No; there are none on whom mademoiselle bestows such favours. She left Paris with him last night." "The devil!" ejaculated the little man. "Oh, yes; and she has just passed a fortnight with him in London." "A thousand thunders!" screamed Petit. "Her father told me she was performing in a music-hall at Marseilles." The barrister had evidently touched a sore point, and "The Worm" was more ready than ever to tell all that he knew about Le Jongleur. But his information amounted to little more of importance. The chief fact had been ascertained, its predominant interest was the identity of the man who had planned and carried out the "Albert Gate outrage." Brett quickly realized that to question him further was useless. Petit evidently expected to be set at liberty at once. In this, however, he was disappointed, for the commissary curtly remanded him to the cells.