'I've had a capital night, my dear governor," said Don "Your C. T. C. rooms are the very acme of comfort. I'll see that the Lockup Arms receives a star in the 'Baedeker.' Would you like me to write you a testimonial in your jail book? You wouldn't? Perhaps you hope to see me again? Sorry, my dear governor, but it's impossible. I have other things to do."
A motor car was waiting in the yard. Don Luis stepped in with the four detectives:
"Place Beauveau," he said to the driver.
"No, Rue Vineuse," said one of the detectives, correcting him.
"Oho!" said Don Luis. "His Excellency's private residence! His Excellency prefers that my visit should be kept secret. That's a good sign. By the way, dear friends, what's the time?"
His question remained unanswered. And as the detectives had drawn the blinds, he was unable to consult the clocks in the street.
It was not until he was at Valenglay's, in the Prime Minister's little ground-floor flat near the Trocadero, that he saw a clock on the mantelpiece:
"A quarter to seven!" he exclaimed. "Good! There's not been much time lost."
Valenglay's study opened on a flight of steps that ran down to a garden filled with aviaries. The room itself was crammed with books and pictures.
A bell rang, and the detectives went out, following the old maidservant who had shown them in. Don Luis was left alone.
He was still calm, but nevertheless felt a certain un-
