"My government has waited for ten years to gather in this delectable trio. A month, if you like." "The sooner the better. I shall call this evening after dinner. We shall begin with Mr. Braine; and generally where he is is the woman. Vroon will be the most difficult." "After dinner, then, since you know some of his haunts. There is a reward." Jones laughed shortly. "Keep it yourself, sir. Mr. Hargreave would willingly double whatever this reward is to eliminate these despicable creatures from his affairs." "Thanks." While this conversation was taking place Norton idled about; and feeling the cravings for a cigarette, prepared to roll one, only to find that he hadn't the "makings." So fate urged him to step into the nearest tobacconist's. He asked for his favorite brand and passed over the silver. Braine and his companions saw Norton enter the shop. It agreed with their plans perfectly. The tobacconist happened to be affiliated with the order. So they hurried into the shop. Jim instantly realized that he was in a trap. "How can I get out of here?" he whispered to the tobacconist. The latter smiled. "I have to obey these gentlemen. I don't know what they want you for; but if I made a move to help you I should find my own throat cut without saving yours." "The devil!" Jim made a dash for the rear door, to find it locked. Even as he fumbled with the key Braine and his companions flung themselves upon the reporter and overpowered him. "Ah, my friend Braine!" he said. "My friend Norton!" jeered the victor. "And what do you want; some peaches?" "A paper, my friend, a little secret of paper with invisible writing on it. We promise to give you something in exchange for it." "What?" asked Jim with as much nonchalance as he could assume. "Life." "Search," said Jim. "You won't object to my smoking?" He began to roll a cigarette while they passed over him. He struck a match; the pleasant aroma of tobacco floated about his head. "He's got it on him somewhere. I saw him take it. He's got his nerve with him." The cigarette glowed. Jim smoked hurriedly. Through every pocket they went. The contents of his wallet lay scattered at his feet; his watch dangled from the chain. The cigarette grew shorter and shorter. Suddenly one of the men stretched out a hand and whisked the cigarette from Jim's lips. He threw it to the floor and stamped out the coal. "I thought so!" he exclaimed, holding out the scrap of burnt paper toward Braine. The words "Dear Hargreave" were all that remained of the message. With a snarl of rage Braine whipped out his revolver. "I will give you one minute to tell me what that paper contained." "And after that minute is up?" "A bullet in your stomach." Quick as a flash Jim's hand shot out, caught the loosely held revolver, gave it a wrench, and brought it down savagely upon Braine's head. Then he reversed it and backed toward the front entrance. "Au revoir, till we meet again, gentlemen!"