not to be gainsaid? What manner of man was this De Froilette, what
ends had he in view, that he should live in such a place?

Number 12 looked as faded as its neighbors, showed even fewer lights
in its windows, and, except that no small crowd hung about the closed
door, was no whit more attractive than ever. Ellerey's summons was
answered immediately, however, and he entered a large bare stone hall,
the dim light which hung in the centre disclosing many fast-closed
doors on either side.

"Monsieur is expected," said the man deferentially, leading the way
down a stone passage and up a flight of stairs to a landing
corresponding with the hall below. But how different! Here was luxury.
A deep carpet deadened the footfall, rich curtains hung over windows
and doorways, and ancient arms were upon the walls. Ellerey had little
time to appreciate more than the general effect, for the man, drawing
back a heavy curtain, opened a door, and without making any announcement
stood aside for him to enter.

"Welcome, mon ami, welcome," said De Froilette, coming forward to meet
him. "Confidences are easier here than on the highway."

The room was perfect, the abode of a man of taste with the means to
gratify it to the full. It was costly and unique, a collector's room,
discriminately arranged, and the owner, motioning his guest to a chair,
was worthy of his surroundings. In the afternoon he had been muffled
in a cloak, and Ellerey had noticed little of his appearance beyond
the fact that his eyes were dark and restless. Now he saw a man courtly
and distinguished in a manner, with a clever, earnest face, at once
attractive and inviting confidence. His hair, cut short, and his beard