“You understand?” Gianapolis was not smiling, now.  “There is not the slightest danger.  The signature of the lady whom you will meet will be an exact duplicate of the real one; that is, exact enough to deceive a man who is not looking for a forgery.  But it would not be exact enough to deceive the French banker—­he will be looking for a forgery.  You follow me?  The signature on the checks drawn against the Credit Lyonnais will be the same as the specimen forwarded by the London County and Suburban, since they will be written by the same lady—­the duplicate Mrs. Leroux.  Therefore, the French bank will have no means of detecting the harmless little deception practised upon them, and the English bank, if it should ever see those checks, will raise no question, since the checks will have been honored by the Credit Lyonnais.”

Soames finished his whisky-and-soda at a gulp.

“Finally,” concluded Gianapolis, “you will escort the lady out by the front entrance to the Strand.  She will leave you and walk in an easterly direction—­making some suitable excuse if the manager should insist upon seeing her to the door; and the real Mrs. Leroux will come out by the Strand end of Bank Chambers’ corridor, and walk back with you around the corner to where the car will be waiting.  Perfect?”

“Quite,” said Soames, huskily....

But when, some twenty minutes later, he returned to Palace Mansions, he was a man lost in thought; and he did not entirely regain his wonted composure, and did not entirely shake off the incubus, Doubt, until in his own room he had re-counted the contents of the brown paper envelope.  Then:—­

“It’s safe enough,” he muttered; “and it’s worth it!”

Thus it came about that, on the following morning, Leroux called him into the study and gave him just such instructions as Gianapolis had outlined the evening before.

“I am—­er—­too busy to go myself, Soames,” said Leroux, “and—­er—­Mrs. Leroux will shortly be paying a visit to friends in—­er—­in Paris.  So that I am opening a credit there for her.  Save so much trouble—­and—­such a lot of—­correspondence—­international money orders—­and such worrying things.  Mr. Smith, the manager, knows you and you will take this letter of authority.  The draft I understand has already been purchased.”

Mr. Soames was bursting with anxiety to learn the amount of this draft, but could find no suitable opportunity to inquire.  The astonishing deception, then, was carried out without anything resembling a hitch.  Mrs. Leroux went through with her part in the comedy, in the dreamy manner of a somnambulist; and the duplicate Mrs. Leroux, who waited at the appointed spot, had achieved so startling a resemblance to her prototype, that Mr. Soames became conscious of a craving for a peg of brandy at the moment of setting eyes upon her.  However, he braced himself up and saw the business through.

As was to be expected, no questions were raised and no doubts entertained.  The bank manager was very courteous and very reserved, and the fictitious Mrs. Leroux equally reserved, indeed, cold.  She avoided raising her motor veil, and, immediately the business was concluded, took her departure, Mr. Smith escorting her as far as the door.