"I know it; but the watcher could learn nothing. Henri Servan as a name will suggest nothing to the fool who followed me. Besides we both knew that he was trying to peek through the keyhole. That hotel, you know, still retains the old-fashioned keyholes."
"To keep the maids in good humor, I suppose," laughed Jim. "Well, I must be on my way to make that flyer."
The two shook hands and Jim hurried off. The butler watched him till he disappeared down the subway.
"He's a good lad," he murmured, "and a brave lad; and money is only an incident in human affairs after all. I'll be a good angel and let the two be happy, since they love each other and have proved it in a thousand ways."
Meanwhile the Russian agent settled down before his writing portfolio; and once or twice as he wrote he thought he heard a sound outside the door. No doubt this butler of Hargreave's had been watched and followed. By and by he rose, drew his revolver, and tiptoed to the door obliquely so that the watcher outside might not become aware of his approach. Swiftly he swung back the door and the member of the Black Hundred stumbled into the room. Almost instantly the Russian caught him by the collar and held him up.
"What were you doing outside my door?"
The man, trying to collect his thoughts, did not answer.
"A spy of some sort, eh?"
"I'm a detective," said the man finally, thinking he saw his way clear.
"And what did you expect to learn by looking through the keyhole of my door?"