Ethan nodded; science or no science he knew that the stranger spoke the truth. “The other face,” continued Fochard, “is of a decidedly lower type. Note the huge jaw, the small round head set upon the great torso, with scarcely the sign of a neck. This is a common sort of ruffian--one who will make much noise about his wrong-doing and be easily caught.” Ethan looked at the secret agent curiously; somehow he had the impression that the man’s talk was for the purpose of gaining time; also that he desired the three at the table near the door to see them, apparently, earnestly engaged together. Drawing a large silver snuff-box from his waistcoat pocket Fochard took a dainty pinch and then offered it to Ethan and Longsword in turn. Upon their refusing he smiled and delicately applied the snuff to his nostrils; then he dusted the fallen grains from his clothing and put the box away. “I think,” said Ethan, “that you must have encountered these men before to know their characteristics so well. A single glance at the face does not tell so much.” The Frenchman gestured his admiration of this remark, and his jeweled hands sparkled in the candle-light. “You Americans are keen and most practical,” he said. “And for that reason,” he went on, bending toward Ethan, “I am going to do something for you to-night which will surprise you much--and out of sheer admiration of your nation.” “Indeed.” “I have here a ring,” and Fochard drew from his finger a sparkling circlet and held it up so that the light would fall upon it. “I am going to give it to you.” He noted the lad’s look of surprise, and added with a smile: “It is not because of the ring itself--oh, no. But the person who stands, with this ring upon the third finger of his right hand and with the hand held so, at the great gate of Versailles at ten in the morning, will receive--a packet. Do you understand?” “A packet,” Ethan shot a keen glance at the man. “Exactly--a packet sealed with great splotches of red wax.” “Ah!” The boy drew in a deep breath, and his eyes narrowed and began to burn. “Ten thousand pounds is a great sum,” and Fochard shrugged his fat shoulders. “But I am a Frenchman, and all Frenchmen love the Americans. For this reason I forego all hope of the profit that a great labor should bring me.” He grasped Ethan by the right wrist and placed the ring upon his finger. As he did so the men at the far table quietly arose and drew nearer, seating themselves at another table. Their watchful eyes never lost a movement of Fochard’s or Ethan’s; their heads were bent in an effort to hear what was being said. “So,” said Fochard, in a low tone, “that is done, monsieur, and I am pleased.” “Is this packet,” demanded Ethan eagerly, “what I suppose it is?” “It is,” replied Fochard in a somewhat louder tone. “But guard the ring carefully; for it alone will bring you what you desire.”