I willingly consented, and we accordingly left the restaurant.  Once we were in the street Hayle called a cab, gave the man his instructions, and we entered it.  Chatting pleasantly, and still smoking, we passed along the brilliantly illuminated Boulevards.  I bestowed little, if any, attention on the direction in which we were proceeding.  Indeed, it would have been difficult to have done so for never during the evening had Hayle been so agreeable.  A more charming companion no man could have desired.  It was only on chancing to look out of the window that that I discovered that we were no longer in the gaily-lighted thoroughfares, but were entering another and dingier part of the town.

“What is the matter with the driver?” I asked.  “Doesn’t he know what he is about?  This is not the way to the Hippodrome!  He must have misunderstood what you said to him.  Shall I hail him and point out his mistake?”

“No, I don’t think it is necessary for you to do that,” he replied.  “Doubtless he will be on the right track in a few minutes.  He probably thinks if he gives us a longer ride, he will be able to charge a proportionately larger fare at the end.  The Parisian cabby is very like his London brother.”

He then proceeded to describe to me an exceedingly funny adventure that had fallen him once in Chicago.  The recital lasted some minutes, and all the time we were still pursuing our way in a direction exactly opposite to that which I knew we should be following.  At last I could stand it no longer.

“The man’s obviously an idiot,” I said, “and I am going to tell him so.”

“I shouldn’t do that, Mr. Fairfax,” said Hayle in a different voice to that in which he had previously addressed me.  “I had my own reasons for not telling you before, but the matter has already been arranged.  The man is only carrying out his instructions.”

“What do you mean by already arranged?” I asked, not without some alarm.

“I mean that you are my prisoner, Mr. Fairfax,” he said.  “You see, you are rather a difficult person to deal with, if I must pay you such a compliment, and one has to adopt heroic measures in order to cope with you.”

“Then you’ve been humbugging me all this time,” I cried; “but you’ve let the cat out of the bag a little too soon.  I think I’ll bid you good-bye.”

I was about to rise from my seat and open the door, but he stopped me.  In his hand he held a revolver, the muzzle of which was in unpleasant proximity to my head.

[Illustration:  “IN HIS HAND HE HELD A REVOLVER.”]

“I must ask you to be good enough to sit down,” he said.  “You had better do so, for you cannot help yourself.  If you attempt to make a fuss I pledge you my word I shall shoot you, let the consequences to myself be what they may.  You know me, and you can see that I am desperate.  My offer to those men was only a bluff.  I wanted to quiet any suspicions you might have in order that I might get you into my hands.  As you can see for yourself, I could not have succeeded better than I have done.  I give you my word that you shall not be hurt, provided that you do not attempt to escape or to call for help.  If you do, then you know exactly what you may expect, and you will have only yourself to blame.  Be a sensible man, and give in to the inevitable.”