Now if Ernest had really inscribed that cipher message he had substituted his for the original one written there. With what purpose? To whom was this unintelligible word addressed? Having regard to the fact that the tables of cafés are usually washed down by the waiters every morning, it seemed certain that the person to whom he intended to convey the message would come there that night. Indeed, he had constantly looked at his watch, as though in expectation of the arrival of some one. I therefore paid the waiter and left, returning some few minutes later to my previous place in front of the brasserie opposite, determined to wait and watch. The waiter brought me some illustrated papers, and while pretending to be absorbed in them I kept my eye upon the table I had just vacated. A shabby, wizen-faced little man in a silk hat with flat brim passed and re-passed where I was sitting, and I thought eyed me rather suspiciously. But perhaps it was only my fancy, for when one is engaged in the work of bringing home to a criminal his crime, one is apt to look with undue suspicion on all and sundry. I think I must have been there nearly half-an-hour when a ragged, unkempt man, who had slunk past where I was seated and picked up several cigar-ends with a stick bearing a sharpened wire point, crossed over to the Grand Café and recommenced his search beneath the tables there. He had secured several pieces of smokers’ refuse when, in a moment, he darted to the table in the shadow, and as he stooped, feigning to pick up a piece of unconsumed cigar, I saw that he glanced eagerly to see what message was written there. Just at that moment the wizen-faced man who had evinced such an extraordinary interest in myself was standing idly upon the curb close by. He was undoubtedly watching him. The quick eyes of the old collector of cigar-ends apparently understood the message in an instant, for with bent back he continued his active search, yet betrayed no further interest in that table in the shadow. If he had really gone there in order to ascertain the nature of the message, he concealed his real purpose admirably. Probably he was used to being watched by police agents. I saw him hobble along from café to café, his shrewd, deep-set eyes peering from beneath his gray, shaggy brows in search of the tiny pieces discarded by smokers. With him also disappeared the shabby little man whose interest I had unwittingly aroused, and I remained there still, irresolute and wondering. I had paid, and was just about to rise and go, when of a sudden a well-appointed victoria pulled up in front of the Grand Café, and from it stepped a small, well-dressed woman wearing a smart hat and an elaborate cape of the latest mode. Without hesitation she walked to the table in question and seated herself. In the darkness I could not distinguish her face, but I saw that even before the waiter could attend to her she had examined the table and read the message thereon written.