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"I'll tell you," said Sydney. "I lighted on you, Mr. Barsad,

coming out of the prison of the Conciergerie while I was

contemplating the walls, an hour or more ago. You have a face to

be remembered, and I remember faces well. Made curious by seeing

you in that connection, and having a reason, to which you are no

stranger, for associating you with the misfortunes of a friend

now very unfortunate, I walked in your direction. I walked into

the wine-shop here, close after you, and sat near you. I had no

difficulty in deducing from your unreserved conversation, and the

rumour openly going about among your admirers, the nature of your

calling. And gradually, what I had done at random, seemed to

shape itself into a purpose, Mr. Barsad."

"What purpose?" the spy asked.

"It would be troublesome, and might be dangerous, to explain in

the street. Could you favour me, in confidence, with some minutes

of your company--at the office of Tellson's Bank, for instance?"

"Under a threat?"

"Oh! Did I say that?"