“No,” he replied; “but I must have cut the other fellow.”

“The detective?” queried Kidd.

“No; an old friend of yours, Dick.”

“Who?”

“Monsieur Pierre Jacquet.”

Kidd’s cheeks blanched.

“You are joking,” he muttered.

“Does this seem the record of a joke?”

Enoch held out his blood-stained hand. Mike Quick very politely arose and left the friends together.

“So the fellow has followed us, eh?” remarked Kidd.