exactly an epicure, De Froilette understood a supper of this description
as perhaps only a Frenchman can, and his taste in wines was excellent.
He led the conversation into general topics, talked of Paris and London
with equal ease and knowledge, and of Berlin, Vienna, and St. Petersburg
only a little less intimately.

"I have said I am cosmopolitan," he explained. "After all, it is the
greatest nationality to which a man can belong. Coffee in the library,
Francois."

De Froilette ushered his guest into another room, which from floor to
ceiling was lined with books--books on all subjects and in many
languages. A huge writing-table, littered with letters and foreign
newspapers, occupied the centre of the apartment, which was evidently
a working room, though luxurious in all its appointments. De Froilette
did not speak until the servant had placed the coffee on a side table
and had left the room, when he turned suddenly toward Ellerey.

"I followed you to-day, monsieur; it was not a chance meeting."

"I am not surprised," said Ellery. "Twice before you overtook me I
heard the sound of galloping horses, and was prepared for an enemy."

"And instead, behold a friend," De Froilette laughed, pushing a silver
box of cigarettes across the table. "You must bear with me if I am
prosy for a time. I can promise you that the end of the story is better
than the beginning."

Ellerey settled himself to listen attentively.