"I can't help what may be thought by gossips," I said hastily. "Mr. Keppel is a friend of mine—nothing further."
"But this friendship has apparently caused certain apprehensions to arise in the minds of the persons of whom your mysterious companion was the mouthpiece—the people who threaten you with death should you disobey them."
"Who are those people, do you imagine?" I inquired, deeply in earnest, for the matter seemed to grow increasingly serious.
"Ah!" he answered, with a shrug of his shoulders. "If we knew that we should have no difficulty in arresting the assassin of Monsieur Thorne."
"Well, what do you consider my best course?" I asked, utterly bewildered by the mysterious events of the evening.
"I should advise you to keep your own counsel, and leave the inquiries to us," was the detective's rejoinder. "If this man again approaches you, make an appointment with him later and acquaint us with the time and place at once."
"But I don't anticipate that I shall see him again."
Then, determined to render these police agents every assistance, even though they had been stupidly blind to allow the stranger to escape, I drew from my pocket the small packet which he had given me.
"This," I said, "he handed to me at the last instant, accompanied by a hope that I would not fail to keep the appointment in London."
"What is it?"