The police remained below, but Charles and Medhurst were each provided with a pair of handcuffs.  Remembering the Polperro case, however, we determined to use them with the greatest caution.  We would only put them on in case of violent resistance.  We crept up to the door where the miscreant was housed.  Charles handed the notes in an open envelope to Medhurst, who seized them hastily and held them in his hands in readiness for action.  We had a sign concerted.  Whenever he sneezed—­which he could do in the most natural manner—­we were to open the door, rush in, and secure the criminal!

He was gone for some minutes.  Charles and I waited outside in breathless expectation.  Then Medhurst sneezed.  We flung the door open at once, and burst in upon the creature.

Medhurst rose as we did so.  He pointed with his finger. “This is Colonel Clay!” he said; “keep him well in charge while I go down to the door for the police to arrest him!”

A gentlemanly man, about middle height, with a grizzled beard and a well-assumed military aspect, rose at the same moment.  The envelope in which Charles had placed the notes lay on the table before him.  He clutched it nervously.  “I am at a loss, gentlemen,” he said, in an excited voice, “to account for this interruption.”  He spoke with a tremor, yet with all the politeness to which we were accustomed in the little curate and the Honourable David.

“No nonsense!” Charles exclaimed, in his authoritative way.  “We know who you are.  We have found you out this time.  You are Colonel Clay.  If you attempt to resist—­take care—­I will handcuff you!”

The military gentleman gave a start.  “Yes, I am Colonel Clay,” he answered.  “On what charge do you arrest me?”

Charles was bursting with wrath.  The fellow’s coolness seemed never to desert him.  “You are Colonel Clay!” he muttered.  “You have the unspeakable effrontery to stand there and admit it?”

“Certainly,” the Colonel answered, growing hot in turn.  “I have done nothing to be ashamed of.  What do you mean by this conduct?  How dare you talk of arresting me?”

Charles laid his hand on the man’s shoulder.  “Come, come, my friend,” he said.  “That sort of bluff won’t go down with us.  You know very well on what charge I arrest you; and here are the police to give effect to it.”

He called out “Entrez!” The police entered the room.  Charles explained as well as he could in most doubtful Parisian what they were next to do.  The Colonel drew himself up in an indignant attitude.  He turned and addressed them in excellent French.

“I am an officer in the service of her Britannic Majesty,” he said.  “On what ground do you venture to interfere with me, messieurs?”

The chief policeman explained.  The Colonel turned to Charles. “Your name, sir?” he inquired.

“You know it very well,” Charles answered.  “I am Sir Charles Vandrift; and, in spite of your clever disguise, I can instantly recognise you.  I know your eyes and ears.  I can see the same man who cheated me at Nice, and who insulted me on the island.”