“The gentleman?  What gentleman?” the gendarme queried, rather inanely I thought.

“My lodger,” the woman replied.  “He is out for the moment, but he will be back presently I make no doubt.  The dog is his. . . .”

“What is he like?” the minion of the law queried abruptly.

“Who? the dog?” she retorted impudently.

“No, no!  Your lodger.”

Once more the unwashed finger went up and pointed straight at me.

“He described him well enough just now; thin and slouchy in his ways.  He has lank, yellow hair, a nose perpetually crimson—­with the cold no doubt—­and pale, watery eyes. . . .”

“Theodore,” I exclaimed mentally.

Bewildered, the gendarme pointed to his prisoner.

“But this man . . . ?” he queried.

“Why,” the proprietress replied.  “I have seen Monsieur twice, or was it three times?  He would visit number twenty-five now and then.”

I will not weary you with further accounts of the close examination to which the representative of the law subjected the personnel of the squalid hotel.  The concierge and the man of all work did indeed confirm what the proprietress said, and whilst my friend the gendarme —­puzzled and floundering—­was scratching his head in complete bewilderment, I thought that the opportunity had come for me to slip quietly out by the still open door and make my way as fast as I could to the sumptuous abode in the Faubourg St. Germain, where the gratitude of Mme. de Nole, together with five thousand francs, were even now awaiting me.

After Madame the proprietress had identified Carissimo, I had once more carefully concealed him under my coat.  I was ready to seize my opportunity, after which I would be free to deal with the matter of Theodore’s amazing disappearance.  Unfortunately just at this moment the little brute gave a yap, and the minion of the law at once interposed and took possession of him.

“The dog belongs to the police now, Sir,” he said sternly.

The fatuous jobbernowl wanted his share of the reward, you see.

4.

Having been forced thus to give up Carissimo, and with him all my hopes of a really substantial fortune, I was determined to make the red-polled miscreant suffer for my disappointment, and the minions of the law sweat in the exercise of their duty.

I demanded Theodore!  My friend, my comrade, my right hand!  I had seen him not ten minutes ago, carrying in his arms this very dog, whom I had subsequently found inside a wall cupboard beside a blood-stained coat.  Where was Theodore?  Pointing an avenging finger at the red-headed reprobate, I boldly accused him of having murdered my friend with a view to robbing him of the reward offered for the recovery of the dog.

This brought a new train of thought into the wooden pates of the gendarmes.  A quartet of them had by this time assembled within the respectable precincts of the Hotel des Cadets.  One of them—­senior to the others—­at once dispatched a younger comrade to the nearest commissary of police for advice and assistance.