Townsend closed the door and walked through the outer room to the street. As he did so, a dark, lithe, muscular man of perhaps thirty years, who had been standing at the cigar case for a moment, stepped to the street door and spoke a few words to a man standing there. Then he turned to the cigar case again, and as he did so was accosted by a young man as dark and as sinister of face as himself. “Well?” asked the elder man. “The young fellow took them off with him.” “Where?” “To a hotel.” “I see,” said the other. “To the Wisconsin. Get a cab—quick.” “But the night is dark, and he is walking.” “Never mind that now. Get a cab, pick up Number Two at the corner, and drive quickly to the Wisconsin. Number Two knows what to do on arrival.” The young man hastened away, and the other paid for a package of cigars he had ordered and took his departure. Young Maynard waited half an hour for the return of his friend, but he did not come. As he was about to go in search of him, Julius Mantelle entered the room. “I am late,” said the fresh arrival, throwing himself into a chair and ringing for an attendant. “I met a friend out here, and he steered me up against a jolly bunch that just let go of me. Where is Townsend?” “He was called away,” replied Maynard, becoming every instant more anxious for his friend. “I am expecting him every moment.” When the attendant arrived, Julius ordered brandy and cigars, and set out to make himself at home. He was a man of sallow skin and slender build. His eyes were dark and dull in repose, but they flashed like those of a snake under excitement. His nose was broad at the nostrils, his lips were thick, his hair jet black, and curly. He spoke English with a slight French accent. Maynard had known him only a few weeks, having met him at the house of a mutual acquaintance. From that first day Mantelle had seemed to court the acquaintance and companionship of the young millionaire. “Townsend is late,” said Mantelle presently. “We shall miss the appointment.” Maynard could hardly retain his seat in his chair. He was fearful that his friend had come to some injury in his service. Surely, he had been absent long enough to have executed his commission twice over. He was not thinking of the appointment. He was wondering how he could obtain news of his friend without exciting curiosity of the man sitting there. “Shall we go without him?” asked Julius, after a time. “By no means,” was the reply. “I shall wait for a few minutes, and then look him up if he does not return.” “In that case,” said the other, “we may as well call the appointment off. I am confoundedly sleepy, anyway. See you to-morrow.” Mantelle went away, and Maynard sprang for the phone. Two millions in diamonds would have appeared as small to him as did the half million involved when it came to a question of the safety of his friend. He began to understand now that he had made an awful mistake in carrying the diamonds about with him.