At all events, for nearly a year now I've been meeting him in Paris, where the police no doubt are watching him.

And nothing can rid me of the idea that he merely consented to become our lunatic Princess's lover in order to throw the detectives off the scent.

He affects to live in the midst of _fetes_, and he has introduced to the house some extraordinary people, Anarchists of all nationalities and all colours--for instance, one Raphanel, that fat, jovial little man yonder, a Frenchman he is, and his companions would do well to mistrust him.

Then there's a Bergaz, a Spaniard, I think, an obscure jobber at the Bourse, whose sensual, blobber-lipped mouth is so disquieting.

And there are others and others, adventurers and bandits from the four corners of the earth!...