Cronin assigned one of the men immediately, and the sleuth took up a note of introduction to Helene, in which Monty explained the need for his watch.

Shirley then repaired to the club house to await his dinner guest.  He was thoughtful about the alacrity of Warren to dine with him.  There was more to this assumed friendliness than the mere desire to talk to him.

“I wonder if he wants to keep me occupied for some certain reason?” pondered the club man.  “Helene is protected now by a silent watcher.  The members of the Lobster Club are all out of the city.  Van Cleft is safe on the ocean.  They must be laying a trap.  I wonder where that trap would be?”

As he looked about his rooms he realized that many important pieces of evidence were locked up in his chests and the small safe.  His bedroom, in the uppermost floor of the club building, was in a quiet and less frequented part of the house.  Shirley summoned one of the shrewd Japanese valets who worked on the dormitory floors of the building.

“Chen,” he began.  “Are you a good fighter?”

The Mongolian grinned characteristically.  Shirley took out a bill, and handed it to the little fellow.

“I have reason to think some one may come into my rooms to-night, while I am busy downstairs.  How would you like to lock yourself on the inside of my clothes closet, and wait?  The air is not very good, but with this ten dollars you could take a nice ride in the country to-morrow, and get lots of good oxygen in your lungs to make up for it.”

Chen was a willing little self-jailer.  Shirley handed him his own revolver, and the slant eyes sparkled with glee at the opportunity for some excitement.  Americans may carp at the curious manners and alleged shortcomings of the Oriental, but personal fear does not seem to be in the category of their faults.  So, with this little valet, who improved his time, as Shirley had discovered, by taking special courses in Columbia University’s scientific department.  The criminologist had used him on more than one occasion when Eastern subtlety and apparent lack of guile had accomplished the impossible!

The closet door was closed, and Shirley went downstairs.  At the desk of the, club clerk he sent a cablegram to the police authorities of Paris.  The message was simple

“Cable collect to Holland Detective Agency name and record of man
in Montfleury case, August, 1914.   Do you want him? .........
........  Cronin, Captain.”

Shirley smiled as he handed the envelope to the little messenger who had been summoned, and made his exit through the front doorway just as the affable Reginald Warren entered it:  another instance of “ships that pass in the night,” was the thought of the host who advanced courteously.

“You are on time to the minute:  German training, I see.  Let the boy have your hat and coat, Mr. Warren.”