“It was not until the last moment,” Godfrey went on, “when the traitor was bending above the cabinet feeling for the spring, that I realised what was about to happen.  There was no time for hesitation —­I sprang into the room.  Armand vanished in an instant, and the giant also tried to escape; but I caught him at the door.  I had no idea of his danger; I had no thought that Armand would dare linger.  And yet he did.  Now that it is too late, I understand.  He had to kill that man; there were no two ways about it.  Whatever the risk, he had to kill him.”

“But why?” I asked.  “Why?”

“To seal his lips.  If we had captured him, do you suppose Armand’s secret would have been safe for an instant?  So he had to kill him—­he had to kill him with the poisoned barb—­and he did kill him, and got away into the bargain!  Never in my life have I felt so like a fool as when that door was slammed in my face!”

“Perhaps he had that prepared, too,” I suggested timidly, ready to believe anything of this extraordinary man.  “Perhaps he knew that we were there, all the time.”

“Of course he did,” assented Godfrey grimly.  “Why else would there be a snap-lock on the outside of the door?  And to think I didn’t see it!  To think that I was fool enough to suppose that I could follow him about the streets of New York without his knowing it!  He knew from the first that he might be followed, and prepared for it!”

“But it’s incredible!” I protested feebly.  “It’s incredible!”

“Nothing is incredible in connection with that man!”

“But the risk—­think of the risk he ran!”

“What does he care for risks?  He despises them—­and rightly.  He got away, didn’t he?”

“Yes,” I said, “he got away; there’s no question of that, I guess.”

“Well, that is the story of this afternoon’s tragedy, as I understand it,” proceeded Godfrey, more calmly.  “And now I’m going to leave you.  I want you to think it over.  If it doesn’t hold together, show me where it doesn’t.  But it will hold together—­it has to—­because it’s true!”

“But how about Armand?” I protested.  “Aren’t you going to try to capture him?  Are you going to let him get away?”

“He won’t get away!” and Godfrey’s eyes were gleaming again.  “We don’t have to search for him; for we’ve got our trap, Lester, and it’s baited with a bait he can’t resist—­the Boule cabinet!”

“But he knows it’s a trap.”

“Of course he knows it!”

“And you really think he will walk into it?” I asked incredulously.

“I know he will!  One of these days, he will try to get that cabinet out of the steel cell at the Twenty-third Street station, in which we have it locked!”

I shook my head.

“He’s no such fool,” I said.  “No man is such a fool as that.  He’ll give it up and go quietly back to Paris.”

“Not if he’s the man I think he is,” said Godfrey, his hand on the door.  “He will never give up!  Just wait, Lester; we shall know in a day or two which of us is a true prophet.  The only thing I am afraid of,” he added, his face clouding, “is that he’ll get away with the cabinet, in spite of us!”