Papopolous would be pleased to receive the visitor a further change had taken place in the stranger's appearance. The man-servant must have been very unobservant or very well trained for he betrayed no surprise at the small black satin mask which hid the other's features. Leading the way to a door at the end of the hall, he opened it and announced in a respectful murmur: "M. le Marquis."
The figure which rose to receive this strange guest was an imposing one. There was something venerable and patriarchal about M. Papopolous. He had a high domed forehead and a beautiful white beard. His manner had in it something ecclesiastical and benign.
"My dear friend," said M. Papopolous.
He spoke in French and his tones were rich and unctuous.
"I must apologize," said the visitor, "for the lateness of the hour."
"Not at all. Not at all," said M. Papopolous—"an interesting time of night. You have had, perhaps, an interesting evening?"
"Not personally," said M. le Marquis.
"Not personally," repeated M. Papopolous, "no, no, of course not. And there is news, eh?"
He cast a sharp glance sideways at the other, a glance that was not ecclesiastical or benign in the least.
"There is no news. The attempt failed. I hardly expected anything else."
"Quite so," said M. Papopolous; "anything crude"
He waved his hand to express his intense distaste for crudity in any form. There was indeed nothing
