“Glad to meet you again, Mr. Mershone,” he said.  “May I come in?  Thank you.”

While Mershone stood bewildered by this unexpected apparition the detective entered the room, closed the door carefully, and putting his back to it bowed politely to Madame Cerise.

“Pardon this seeming intrusion, ma’am,” said he.  “I’m here on a little matter of business, having a warrant for the arrest of Mr. Charles Connoldy Mershone.”

CHAPTER XXII

GONE

The grim face of Madame Cerise relaxed to allow a quaint smile to flit across it.  She returned Fogerty’s bow with a deep curtsy.

Mershone, after one brief exclamation of dismay, wrested from him by surprise, threw himself into the chair again and stared at the fire.  For a few moments there was intense stillness in the little room.

“How easy it is,” said Fogerty, in soft, musing tones, “to read one’s thoughts—­under certain circumstances.  You are thinking, Mr. Mershone, that I’m a boy, and not very strong, while you are an athlete and can easily overpower me.  I have come at a disagreeable time, and all your plans depend on your ability to get rid of me.  But I’ve four good men within call, who are just now guarding the approaches to this house.  They’d like to come in, I know, because it’s very cold and disagreeable outside; but suppose we allow them to freeze for a time?  Ah, I thought you’d agree with me, sir—­I overheard you say you were about to visit Miss Merrick, who is confined in a room upstairs, but I’d like you to postpone that while we indulge in a little confidential chat together.  You see—­”

The door-bell rang violently.  Fogerty glanced at Madame Cerise.  “Will you see who it is?” he asked.

She arose at once and left the room.  Mershone turned quickly.

“What’s your price, Fogerty?” he asked, meaningly.

“For what?”

“For getting out of here—­making tracks and leaving me alone.  Every man has his price, and I’m trapped—­I’m willing to pay anything—­I’ll—­”

“Cut it out, sir.  You’ve tried this once before.  I’m not to be bribed.”

“Have you really a warrant for my arrest?”

“I’ve carried it since Friday.  It’s no use, Mershone, the game’s up and you may as well grin and bear it.”

Mershone was about to reply when the door opened and Diana Von Taer came in with a swift, catlike tread and confronted him with flaming eyes.

“You coward!  You low, miserable scoundrel!  How dare you come here to annoy and browbeat that poor girl?” she cried in clear, cutting accents, without noticing the presence of Fogerty.

“Oh, shut up, Di, you’re in it as deep as I am,” he retorted, turning away with a flushed face.

“I’m not, sir!  Never have I countenanced this wicked, criminal act,” she declared.  “I have come here to-day to save Louise from your wiles and carry her back to her friends.  I dare you, or your confederates,” with a scornful look at the detective, “to interfere with me in any way.”  Then she turned to Cerise and continued:  “Where is Miss Merrick now?”