"But if this is so, and you can identify him as Chu-Chu le Tondeur, why do you not go to the police and have him taken?"
"Because," I answered slowly, "Chu-Chu is the leading light of a very powerful criminal organisation. To denounce Chu-Chu would be to involve others, and in that case I probably should not live long enough to drink a petit verre. But Chu-Chu himself is not in very good favour with the gang, and nobody would hold it against me if I were to settle my affair with him quietly."
"You wish?" gasped Rosalie.
"I wish to protect myself."
She glanced at my face, then drew back a little, pale and her breath coming quickly. But the fascinated look I had observed in the café was there again.
"What do you want to do?" she asked almost in a whisper; and her hazel eyes never left my face. "And what do you want me to do?" She moistened her lips with her tongue.
"My plan is this: In about an hour, or, say, an hour and a half, I want you to drive me, dressed as I am now, into the Hertzfeld place. I will tell the maître d'hôtel that I am a journalist, a correspondent of some English paper, and ask to be favoured with a list of the guests, the menu, and, if possible, a few words with the Baron. This ought not to be difficult, as he is nouveau riche and his title a recently purchased one, and he likes notoriety. While in there I will contrive to let Chu-Chu get a glimpse of me. He will recognise me at once, but I shall pretend not to have seen him. Chu-Chu
