He beamed upon the pigeons and looked around at the people dotted about in chairs outside the Cafe de Paris, hoping to find an acquaintance.

It chanced, however, that he saw nothing but strangers.

Then his eyes fell upon a man who was seated with folded arms a short distance away, a man of respectable but somewhat gloomy appearance, dressed in dark clothes, with pale cheeks and cavernous eyes.

Selingman strolled towards him.
"How go things, friend Allen ?" he enquired, dropping his voice a little.
The man glanced uneasily around.

There was, however, no one in his immediate vicinity.
"Badly," he admitted.
"Still no success, eh ?" Selingman asked, drawing up a chair and seating himself.
"The man is secretive by nature," was the gloomy reply.