“Well, he goes about quite openly, well knowing that his description has been circulated through every town and village in France.” “And if he were arrested, where should we be?” inquired the woman in dismay. “In a very awkward predicament, I fear,” he responded. “That’s the very reason why I’m trying to persuade Cameron to act with greater discretion. He’s well known, you see, and may be recognized at any moment in the street. If he were a stranger here, in Paris, it might be different.” “It’s absurd, certainly, for him to run his head into a noose. I must speak to him at once.” “He’s out. He went out before six this morning, the chambermaid tells me.” “That’s odd! Where’s he gone?” “I don’t exactly know. Somewhere in the country, I should think.” “What if he is already arrested?” “No, don’t let’s anticipate such a contretemps. Matters are, however, beginning to look serious enough, in all conscience,” he answered. “Do you think we shall succeed?” she inquired eagerly. “We have been successful before,” he responded confidently, “why not now? We have only to exercise just a little more care and cunning than that exercised by the police. Then, once above suspicion, all the rest is perfectly plain sailing.” “Which means that we must make a perfect coup.” “Exactly. The whole scene must be carried out firmly and without a hitch, otherwise we shall find ourselves in very evil case.” “Knowing this should make us desperate,” she observed. “I’m desperate already,” he replied in a quiet voice. “It will not go well with any one who tries to thwart us now. It’s a matter of life or death.” What new plot had been hatched I could not guess. What was this fresh conspiracy that was intended? His carefully guarded words aroused within me an intense curiosity. I had already overheard many things, and still resolved to possess myself in patience and continue my ever-watchful vigil. There was, according to the old man’s own words, a desperate plot in progress, which it was intended to be carried out at all hazards--even to the taking of another human life. I wrote down on a piece of paper the cipher which I had found scrawled upon the table and tried by several means to reduce it to some intelligible message, but without success. It was evidently in one of those secret codes used by criminals, therefore how could I hope to discover a key to what so often had puzzled the cleverest detectives of the sureté? The day passed without further incident. I remained in my room awaiting the return of the man whose strange action had so puzzled me on the previous night and who was now running such risk of arrest. If he returned I hoped to overhear his conversation with his companions, but, unfortunately, he did not come back. All was quiet in the adjoining chamber, for Keppel and the woman with the strange marks had evidently gone out in company.