The waiter braced himself up with a visible effort. Not, I fancied, that he had any objection to tell the truth, but that it was a rather novel exercise for him. From that moment he neglected the Inspector and me to concentrate his efforts to propitiate on Sir Frank. “I hear that the man who is dead trusted you. Did he trust you with his real name?” “Never, sir.” Gerard spread out his two hands to show their emptiness of knowledge. “I knew nothing of him except what I learned from Madame.” “And that was?” The waiter looked apprehensive. No doubt the idea crossed his mind that it might be awkward if his account contradicted hers. “That was very little indeed, sir. She told me to treat him as proprietor. He never paid for what he consumed. I supposed that he was Madame’s partner.” “Were you the only man who waited on him?” “For the last four months or six months, yes, sir. He made it his request to Madame and to me that I should bring him everything he ordered.” “Did he tell you why?” “Yes, he said to me that I was to carry his glass of wine or his cup of coffee very carefully. ‘See that you do not spill it, and see that nothing is spilled into it by the way’--those were his words, sir, as nearly as I can recollect.” “What did you think when he said that?” Gerard’s expressive hands mutely protested that it was not their business to think. “I do what I am ordered to do, sir, without thinking too much. But Monsieur Wilson himself explained his motive to me. He said, ‘I do not like to have practical jokes played on me, and I fancy there are some practical jokers in the _cercle_.’” “Did he say _cercle_ or club?” “Monsieur, he always spoke to me in French. He had spent much time in Paris, he told me once. I believe----” Gerard interrupted himself, as though doubtful whether his belief would be acceptable as evidence. It struck me that he had been a witness in a court of law at some time or other. Tarleton threw him a friendly nod. “Go on; tell me what you believe.” “I think,” Gerard corrected himself, “that perhaps Monsieur Wilson founded this club in order to escape the necessity for going to Paris to amuse himself.” The examiner moved his head doubtfully. “You think he had some business, then, which made it necessary for him to remain in London.” “But I am sure of it!” The waiter’s tone became confident. “Business that assisted him in establishing the club, even. The great people who came here were his customers rather than his personal friends; such is my idea.” Tarleton turned an approving face to us. “I think that this man knows what he is talking about. We are dealing with something very daring and very dark. Did you ever guess what the business was?” The question was darted out suddenly. But the little Frenchman manifested no uneasiness. The doctor’s praise seemed to have given him confidence.