"I will explain, Signor. The singer has constantly at her house parties of men; no other woman but herself appears at them; and these parties consist of Zouroff and his friends. I have made it my business to find out all their names. You can have that list when you want it; it will be useful to certain persons in high quarters." Decidedly, Ivan was growing very interesting. The young Italian listened with the closest attention. "In the side wall of Madame Quéro's villa there is a secret door, my friend Stepan is janitor. On the night when these parties assemble he is on duty. A small bell is pulled, which he cannot hear, but he sees the wire of it vibrating. Stepan ushers them into an inner chamber across which, screening it from the small vestibule, hang heavy black velvet curtains. These men, Signor, are conspirators, one and all. Stepan is too deaf to overhear what they are conspiring about, but he has his suspicions." "One moment, Ivan," interrupted Corsini. "You said that Prince Zouroff has showed this man favours. Is he not loyal to his master?" "No more loyal than I am, Signor, although, like him, I was born on the villain's estates. Shall I tell you why? When Stepan was a youngster, before this terrible deafness came upon him, he was in love with my sister. You can now understand that he hates Zouroff with only a few degrees less hatred than myself." "It is quite intelligible, Ivan. Please go on." "Now I am getting to the point where you come in," explained the outlaw. The four patient men were still watching the prolonged interview, with their pistols ready to be discharged at a moment's notice, should this burly stranger show any suspicious movement. "These men conduct their conversation in French; that much Stepan knows. On the nights of these assemblies, both the vestibule and inner chamber are very dimly illuminated. Stepan could manage to hide me there to overhear. But, as you know, Signor, I speak French very imperfectly myself and it would be impossible for me to follow them. I often have to ask you to repeat your words slowly, to catch the sense." Corsini admitted that it was so. "Now, Signor, here comes the strange thing, a coincidence that must have been fashioned by Providence to direct our ends. In a dim light, you and Stepan are as alike as two peas; it was this resemblance that put the idea into my head. I will not say that in the broad daylight the difference between you might not be discernible." Corsini drew a deep breath. He was beginning to have an idea of the scheme which had worked in Ivan's cunning brain. "You want to dress me up as Stepan, put me in his place, and overhear what they are plotting, so that I can communicate it to the police?" "Precisely, Signor. Is it not a great idea?"