“What you are saying now,” Monsieur Grisson interrupted, “amounts to an accusation.  Tapilow is known to us.  These things must be spoken of seriously.  You speak upon your honor as an English soldier and a gentleman?”

“Messieurs,” I answered, turning to both of them, “it is agreed.  I speak to you as I would speak to the judge before whom I should stand if I had murdered this man, and I tell you both, upon my honor, that the treatment which he received from me he merited.  He borrowed my money and my brother’s money.  He accepted the hospitality of my brother’s house, the friendship of his friends.  In return, he robbed him of the woman whom he loved.”

“The quarrel,” Monsieur Decresson said softly, “seems, then, to have been another’s.”

“Messieurs,” I answered, “my brother is an invalid for life.  The quarrel, therefore, was mine.”

Decresson and his companion exchanged glances.  I leaned back in my chair.  The three of them talked together earnestly for several minutes in an undertone.  Then Louis, with a little sigh of relief, rose to his feet and came over to my side.

“It is finished,” he declared.  “Monsieur Decresson and Monsieur Grisson are of one mind in this matter.  The man Tapilow’s punishment was deserved.”

I looked from one to the other of them in wonder.

“But I do not understand!” I exclaimed.  “You mean to say, then, that even if Tapilow himself should wish it—­”

Monsieur Decresson smiled grimly.

“What happens in the Cafe des Deux Epingles,” he said, “happens outside the world.  Without special permission it would not be possible for Monsieur Tapilow to speak to the police of this assault.  Buy your Figaro every evening,” he continued, “and soon you will read.  In the meantime, I recommend you, monsieur, not to stay too long in Paris.”

They took leave of me with some solemnity on the pavement outside the restaurant, but Monsieur Decresson, before stepping into his automobile, drew me a little on one side.

“Capitaine Rotherby,” he said, “you have been dealt with to-day as a very privileged person.  You were brought to the Cafe des Deux Epingles a stranger, almost a guest, and your behavior there might very well have been resented by us.”

“If I have not said much,” I answered, “please do not believe me any the less grateful.”

“Let that go,” Monsieur Decresson said coldly.  “Only I would remind you of this.  You are a young man, but your experience has doubtless told you that in this world one does not often go out of one’s way to serve a stranger for no purpose at all.  There is a chance that the time may come when we shall ask you, perhaps through Louis here, perhaps through some other person, to repay in some measure your debt.  If that time should come, I trust that you will not prove ungrateful.”

“I think,” I answered confidently, “that there is no fear of that.”