He brightened at the compliment.  “Yes, that was it.  Listen.  I came to Algiers, the last place he was heard of.  I go to the cafes.  I listen like a detective to conversation.  I creep behind soldiers talking.  I find out nothing.  I ask at the shops.  They think I am crazy, but Anastasius Papadopoulos has a brain larger than theirs.  I go to my old friend the secretary of the theatre, where I have exhibited the marvellous performance of my cats.  I say to him, ’When have you a date for me?’ He says, ‘Next year.’  I make a note of it.  We talk.  He knows all Algiers.  I say to him, ’What has become of Captain Vauvenarde of the Chasseurs d’Afrique?’ I say it carelessly as if the Captain were an old friend of mine.  The secretary laughs.  ’Haven’t you heard?  The Captain was chased from the regiment——­’”

“The deuce he was!” I interjected.

“On account of something,” said Anastasius.  “The secretary could not tell what.  Perhaps he cheated at cards.  The officers said so.

“‘Where is he now?’ I ask.  ’Why, in Algiers.  He is the most famous gambler in the town.  He is every night at the Cercle Africain, and some people believe that it belongs to him.’  My friend the secretary asks me why I am so anxious to discover Captain Vauvenarde.  I do not betray my secret.  When I do not wish to talk I close my lips, and they are sealed like the tomb.  I am the model of discretion.  You, Monsieur, with the high-bred delicacy of the English statesman, have not questioned me about my combination.  I appreciate it.  But, if you had, though it broke my heart, I should not have answered.”

“I am not going to pry into your schemes,” I said, “but there are one or two things I must understand.  How do you know the banker was Captain Vauvenarde?”

“I saw him several times in Marseilles with the carissima signora.”

“Then how was it he did not recognise you to-night?”

“I was then but an acquaintance of Madame; not her intimate friend, counsellor, champion, as I am now.  I did not have the honour of being presented to Captain Vauvenarde.  I went to-night to make sure of my man, to play the first card in my gigantic combination—­but, alas!  But no!” He rose and thumped his little chest.  “I feel my courage coming back.  My will is stiffening into iron.  When the carissima signora arrives in Algiers she will find she has a champion!”

“How do you know she is coming to Algiers?” I asked startled.

“As soon as I learned that Captain Vauvenarde was here,” he replied proudly, “I sent her a telegram.  ‘Husband found; come at once.’  I know she is coming, for she has not answered.”

An idea occurred to me.  “Did you sign your name and address on the telegram?”

He approached me confidentially as I sat, and wagged a cunning finger.

“In matters of life and death, never give your name and address.”