“Bon!” said the stout man obediently, “bonsoir madame, bonsoir monsieur.” He held out his hand to the chief clerk, who snatched at it automatically. There was a click, an oath from the head clerk, who stood twisting his wrists with handcuffs on them. “Don't be alarmed, Miss West. It's me, Chief Inspector Pointer. I saw you read my name. M. Meunier and I thought we would let this gang hang themselves. As for the chaps he's shouting for, they're safely under lock and key in one of the cupboards, out of sight and sound. I can't have them taken away yet because of our friend, Mr. Beale. He's such a suspicious customer, and it's especially him I'm after.” He turned to the clerk. “Now look here.” Pointer spoke excellent French—a war benefit. “If you want a lighter sentence assist the law now.” The man was utterly cowed. He burst into a flood of protests, excuses, and accusations of Beale, whose money had corrupted an honest man. “Now look here,” Pointer said again. “When Mr. Beale comes, open the door to him exactly as if nothing had happened. Close and bolt it behind him, and leave the rest to us. If you do this M. Meunier may put in a word for you to the police.” M. Meunier, who evidently believed in not interfering with another man's job, now nodded assent. The clerk tremblingly assured them that he would do his very best. M. Meunier again nodded. “It will be a question of twenty years for you if you do not,” he threw in. The Chief Inspector went on to amplify his instructions. “When Mr. Beale comes, show him in as I said. This room will be empty. I want him to talk before witnesses. Say that both messieurs—Mr. Beale need not know anything about this lady till afterwards—are tied up and are being guarded by the other men. Ask him for payment before you let him have the papers. Be sure and tell him explicitly that these are the papers taken by force from M. Meunier. You are a lawyer's clerk and understand what is wanted. We wish Mr. Beale to incriminate himself hopelessly before witnesses. We shall be listening with the door ajar. I shall open it wider when you are to hand the papers to the American. You understand?” The frightened man said that he did and would do his best. “It may make all the difference in your life how good your best is,” M. Meunier warned him grimly. Christine took an impulsive step forward. “Oh, Mr. Pointer, what have you found out? Will it free John? Will it free him?” “As to freeing him, that depends on himself, as you know, Miss West. If a man _won't_ speak, _won't_ give an alibi——”