"It's all right. I know the house. It has only one exit. You, Ramot," he went on, addressing the young woman, "go up to the first floor and take your place at a table; here are ten dollars, order champagne and don't be too stiff with the company." Josephine nodded and went upstairs. Juve and Fandor followed a few minutes later and took up a strategic position at a table near the doorway. Fandor had a view of the room and Juve commanded the hall and stairway. From the room came a confused hum of laughter, cries and doubtful jokes. A negro, clad in red and armed with a gong, capered among the tables, dancing and singing. Fandor caught sight of Josephine, who appeared to be carrying out Juve's instructions. Beside her was a fair giant of red complexion and clean-shaven face, whose Anglo-Saxon origin was beyond doubt. Fandor knew the face; he had seen the man somewhere; he remembered his square shoulders and bull-like neck, and the enormous biceps which stood out under the cloth of his sleeves. "By Jove!" he cried suddenly. "Why it's Dixon, the American heavyweight champion!" Juve signalled to the waiter to bring him the bill as he fitted a monocle into his right eye. Fandor stared at him, surprised. "Well, Juve, when you get yourself up as a man of the world, you omit no detail." Juve made no reply for some moments, then turned to his companion. "Who else do you see in the room?" Fandor looked carefully, and then made a gesture of amazement. "Chaleck! Chaleck is over there eating his supper!" "Yes," said Juve simply, "and you are stupid not to have seen him before." The profile of the mysterious doctor was in fact outlined very sharply at a table, amply served and covered with bottles and flowers, around which half a score of persons, men and women, had taken their places. Without turning his head, Juve remarked: "Judging by the action of the person who is at this moment lighting a cigar the supper is not far from coming to an end." "Come, now, Juve, have you eyes in your back? How can you know what is going on at Doctor Chaleck's table, while you are looking in the opposite direction?" Juve handed his eye-glass to the journalist. "Ah! Now I see! A trick eye-glass, with a mirror in it--not a bad idea." "It is quite simple," murmured Juve. "The main thing is to have thought of it. Come, let us go down." "What? And desert the doctor?" "An arrest should never be made in a public place when it can be avoided. Here, give me your card that I may send it up with mine." Juve called M. Dominique, the manager, and, pointing out Chaleck to him, said: "M. Dominique, please give our cards to that gentleman and say that we are waiting outside to speak to him." In a few moments Chaleck came out of the saloon to the Place Pigalle. His face was calm and his glance unmoved. Juve laid his hand upon the doctor's shoulder, and, signalling to a subordinate in uniform, cried: "Doctor Chaleck, I arrest you in the name of the law."