Baron de Grost glanced at the card which his butler had brought in to him, carelessly at first, afterwards with that curious rigidity of attention which usually denotes the setting free of a flood of memories. "The gentleman would like to see you, sir," the man announced. "You can show him in at once," Peter replied. The servant withdrew. Peter, during those few minutes of waiting, stood with his back to the room and his face to the window, looking out across the square, in reality seeing nothing, completely immersed in this strange flood of memories. John Dory--Sir John Dory now--a quondam enemy, whom he had met but seldom during these later years. The figure of this man, who had once loomed so largely in his life, had gradually shrunk away into the background. Their avoidance of each other arose, perhaps, from a sort of instinct which was certainly no matter of ill-will. Still, the fact remained that they had scarcely exchanged a word for years, and Peter turned to receive his unexpected guest with a curiosity which he did not trouble wholly to conceal. Sir John Dory--Chief Commissioner of Scotland Yard, a person of weight and importance--had changed a great deal during the last few years. His hair had become grey, his walk more dignified. There was the briskness, however, of his best days in his carriage, and in the flash of his brown eyes. He held out his hand to his ancient foe with a smile. "My dear Baron," he said, "I hope you are going to say that you are glad to see me." "Unless," Peter replied, with a good-humoured grimace, "your visit is official, I am more than glad--I am charmed. Sit down. I was just going to take my morning cigar. You will join me? Good! Now I am ready for the worst that can happen." The two men seated themselves. John Dory pulled at his cigar appreciatively, sniffed its flavour for a moment, and then leaned forward in his chair. "My visit, Baron," he announced, "is semi-official. I am here to ask you a favour." "An official favour?" Peter demanded quickly. His visitor hesitated, as though he found the question hard to answer. "To tell you the truth," he declared, "this call of mine is wholly an inspiration. It does not in any way concern you personally, or your position in this country. What that may be I do not know, except that I am sure it is above any suspicion." "Quite so," Peter murmured. "How diplomatic you have become, my dear friend!" John Dory smiled. "Perhaps I am fencing about too much," he said. "I know, of course, that you are a member of a very powerful and wealthy French society, whose object and aims, so far as I know, are entirely harmless." "I am delighted to be assured that you recognise that fact," Peter admitted. "I might add," John Dory continued, "that this harmlessness is of recent date." "Really, you do seem to know a good deal," Peter confessed.