Keeping an eye on Jacqueline, and not losing sight of her at any time,
I followed the tall man. As I neared him my remembrance of him grew
stronger. I knew that powerful, slouching gait, that heavy tread.
When he turned round I had his name on my lips.

It was Simon Leroux.

"So you've got her!" he began in a hoarse, forcible whisper. "Where
did you pick her up? I was hurrying away from Tom's office when I
happened to see you two entering Mischenbusch's."

I remembered then that the office in which I had drudged was only a
couple of blocks away. I made no answer, but waited for him to lead
again--and I was thinking hard.

"There's the devil to pay!" he went on in his execrable accent. "Louis
came on posthaste, as you know, and he hasn't turned up this morning
yet. Ah, I always knew Tom was close, but I never dreamed _you_ knew
anything. When I used to see sitting near the door in his office
writing in those _sacré_ books I thought you were just a clerk. And
you were in the know all the time, you were! You know what happened
last night?" he continued, looking furtively around.

"It was an unfortunate affair," I said guardedly.

"Unfortunate!" he repeated, staring at me out of his bloodshot eyes.
"It was the devil, by gosh! Who was he?"

His face was fiery red, and he cast so keen a look at me that I almost
thought he had discovered he was betraying himself.