hard to explain. In the first place, anybody who has been for years a criminal hates the thought of being mixed up with the police. There are too many old crimes that may be brought to light. Then, my release from the clutch of the law was irregular; an unofficial pardon that would hardly bear the scrutiny of the public. Still again, I did not see how I could impeach Chu-Chu without implicating Ivan and his crowd, and I felt that if I was once marked for the hereafter by that perfect organisation I might just as well go down and hop off a bridge into the Seine. But last of all, I had made up my mind that the best—in fact, the only thing for me to do—was to turn all of my talent to killing Chu-Chu before Chu-Chu killed me. I would have killed him in Ivan's house if I had felt that it was possible to do so without a general rumpus. As it was, at the first shot the servants would have come running in, armed, no doubt, for Ivan's servants were all members of the gang. He had told me on the night of Léontine's dinner that his entire house hold belonged to his mob.
No, it was better as it was, dangerous as my position might be. As things now stood I felt pretty sure that I had only Chu-Chu to reckon with. Ivan would sit tight and offer up prayers that each of us might kill the other. His work was merely executive, and he detested violence as much as might the big trust magnate who sits cool and respectable in his office and robs from the masses. Only Ivan was on rather a higher plane, as he confined himself to relieving the too-rich of their plethora of wealth.
If I had still been an active member of the Under-
