there was a far-away look. “Malpas—Malpas! Where in this case have I met with the name of Malpas?”…
“Inspector Dunbar may possibly have mentioned it to you in reference to the evidence of Mr. John Exel, M. P. Mr. Exel, you may remember”…
“I have it!” cried Max; “Nom d’un nom! I have it! It was from Sir Brian Malpas that he had parted at the corner of Victoria Street on the night of the murder, is it not so?”
“Your memory is very good, M. Max!”
“Then Mr. Exel is a personal friend of Sir Brian Malpas?”
“Excellent! Kismet aids me still! I come to you hoping that you may be acquainted with the constitution of Mrs. Leroux, but no! behold me disappointed in this. Then—morbleu! among your patients I find a possible client of the opium syndicate!”
“What! Malpas? Good God! I had not thought of that! Of course, he must retire somewhere from the ken of society to indulge in these opium orgies”…
“Quite so. I have hopes. Since it would never do for Sir Brian Malpas to know who I am and what I seek, a roundabout introduction is provided by kindly Providence—Ah! that good little angel of mine!—in the person of Mr. John Exel, M. P.”
“I will introduce you to Mr. Exel with pleasure.”
“Eh bien! Let it be arranged as soon as possi-
