Well, Chu-Chu had pulled off his job and was probably at the present moment in Paris, where he would turn his immediate attention to squaring his account with me. He had now a double reason for doing this, because my attempt of the day before would have shown him that I had no intention of waiting to be killed.
There was no time to be lost. First of all, John must be warned and persuaded to get out of Paris at once. I dressed hurriedly and went around to the office, where I found a note from Edith saying that he was ill in bed and asking me to call at the house at noon as John wished to have a talk with me, and hoped that by that time he would be fit for an interview.
There was nothing in particular to do at the office, so at about eleven I ran down to the Automobile Club, hoping to find our client of the day before and apologise for having disappointed him. He was not in the lounge, but over in the corner, smoking a huge cigar, I saw an old acquaintance. This was none other than the Baron Isidor Rosenthal, of Buda Pest and Hayti.
Perhaps you know Rosenthal. Everybody knows him. No? Well, my friend, a part of your education has been lacking. Rosenthal is a big brawny giant of a Jew who has amassed an enormous fortune in all sorts of adventurous promoting schemes, principally in the financing of revolutions. Some time ago he was created a Papal Baron. That sounds funny for a Jew, but Rosenthal had fairly earned his title by saving the lives of a whole community of Bulgarian Christians during the raid of a
