that Monsieur Rouge could, and would, play the part of a beneficent _Deus ex machinâ_. The more he thought of it, the more puzzled Aldean became at this dodge of Vraik's. He finished two pipes trying to solve the problem, and concluded by hoping, as usual, for the best. "Monsieur Rouge," announced Lord Aldean's valet, just as he was filling a third pipe. "All right; show him in." And Jim, standing with his back to the fire, was face to face with his enigmatic visitor from the depths. Monsieur Rouge, thin, sad-faced, and more colourless than ever, glided into the room like an unquiet spectre. He saluted his host with grave dignity. Aldean nodded, and when the door was closed pointed to a chair. "I am glad to see you," he said in French. "Sit down, please. Would you like to eat, or drink, or smoke?" "If Monsieur permits, no; I come to talk." "About Mr. Mallow?" "But certainly, Monsieur, about myself also. I discharge myself of a mission in thus presenting myself." Lord Aldean, who had not once taken his eyes off the white, haggard face, nodded again, and sat down. With easy grace his visitor slipped into a chair, and placed his peaked cap on the floor beside him. Then he looked fixedly at the young Englishman, and waited to be questioned. Evidently M. Rouge was a discreet personage, and not inclined to venture in further than he could withdraw. Nothing of the rash revolutionist about him. "Did Vraik bring you here?" asked Aldean, settling himself. "Assuredly, yes. He gave himself the trouble to lead me to the door. But," Monsieur Rouge waved his hand, "he is gone. I dismissed him. It is not for him to hear what I would say." "What do you wish to say?" "Monsieur, I would make you a confession; I would deliver myself of a story. But that later. Let us concern ourselves with Mr. Mallow." "By all means. Is Mr. Mallow safe?" "Safe and well. But what would you?" Rouge spread out his hands and shrugged. "He is in the power of Madame. She knows not mercy." "Does she intend violence?" asked Aldean, hurriedly. "But what can I say? As the votes go, so will Mr. Mallow be dealt with by the Brotherhood. Attention, Monsieur. Your friend is brave, but rash--oh, most terribly rash! He comes to Soho, and he tells Monsieur the doctor and Madame that he knows of their wickedness about this money, about this murder. Eh! they are afraid that he may tell too much, these brave ones, and they call out 'Spy! spy!' Mr. Mallow fights well, but he is conquered. Behold, Monsieur, your friend most dear is a prisoner in a little room on the top of the house in Soho." "Have they ill-treated him?" "But no; it is not necessary. Monsieur, your friend eats and drinks like one of the aristocrats. To-morrow night there is a great meeting of us in the cellar--oh, a very great meeting! Mr. Mallow will be taken down to be judged. All will be told; and if they say 'Kill!' Monsieur will disappear." "You don't mean they will murder him!" cried Aldean, aghast.