"M'sieu Dorrington—M'sieu Dorrington!" the man exclaimed, excitedly, as the door was opened.
"'E's gawn 'ome long ago," the caretaker growled; "you might 'a known that. Oh, 'ere 'e is though—good evenin', sir."
"I am Mr. Dorrington," the inquiry agent said politely. "Can I do anything for you?"
"Ah yes—it is important—at once! I am robbed!"
"Just step upstairs, then, and tell me about it."
Dorrington had but begun to light the gas in his office when his visitor broke out, "I am robbed, M'sieu Dorrington, robbed by my cousin—coquin! Rrrobbed of everything! Rrrobbed I tell you!" He seemed astonished to find the other so little excited by the intelligence.
"Let me take your coat," Dorrington said, calmly. "You've had a downer in the mud, I see. Why, what's this?" he smelt the collar as he went toward a hat-peg. "Chloroform!"
"Ah yes—it is that rrrascal Jacques! I will tell you. This evening I go into the gateway next my house—Café des Bons Camarades—to enter by the side-door, and—paf!—a shawl is fling across my face from behind—it is pull
