CLOWNS AND CRIMINALS - Complete Series (Thriller Classics). E. Phillips Oppenheim

ambassador in London of the Double-Four, titular head of our association, a personage whose power is second to none in your great city. I do not address words of caution to you, my friend, because we have satisfied ourselves as to your character and capacity before we consented that you should occupy your present position. But I ask you to remember this. The will of Madame lives even beyond the grave. The spirit which animated her when alive breathes still in all of us. In London you will wield a great power. Use it for the common good. And, remember this—the Double-Four has never failed, the Double-Four never can fail.”

      “I am glad to hear you are so confident,” Peter Ruff said. “Of course, if I have to take this thing on, I shall do my best, but if I might venture to allude, for a moment, to anything so trifling as my own domestic affairs, I am very anxious to know about my wife.”

      Sogrange smiled.

      “You will find Mrs. Ruff awaiting you in London,” he announced. “Your address is Porchester House, Porchester Square.”

      “When do I go there?” Peter Ruff asked.

      “To-night,” was the answer.

      “And what do I do when I get there?” he persisted.

      “For three days,” the Marquis told him, “you will remain indoors, and give audience to whoever may come to you. At the end of that time, you will understand a little more of our purpose and our objects—perhaps, even, of our power.”

      “I see difficulties,” Peter Ruff remarked. “There will be a good many people who will remember me when I had offices in Southampton Row. My name, you see, is uncommon.”

      Sogrange drew a document from the breast pocket of his coat.

      “When you leave this house to-night,” he proclaimed, “we bid good-by forever to Mr. Peter Ruff. You will find in this envelope the title deeds of a small property which is our gift to you. Henceforth you will be known by the name and title of your estates.”

      “Title!” Peter Ruff gasped.

      “You will reappear in London,” Sogrange continued, “as the Baron de Grost.”

      Peter Ruff shook his head.

      “It won’t do,” he declared, “people will find me out.”

      “There is nothing to be found out,” the Marquis went on, a little wearily. “Your country life has dulled your wits, Baron. The title and the name are justly yours—they go with the property. For the rest, the history of your family, and of your career up to the moment when you enter Porchester House to-night, will be inside this packet. You can peruse it upon the journey, and remember that we can, at all times, bring a hundred witnesses, if necessary, to prove that you are who you declare yourself to be. When you get to Charing-Cross, do not forget that it will be the carriage and servants of the Baron de Grost which await you.”

      Peter Ruff shrugged his shoulders.

      “Well,” he said, thoughtfully, “I suppose I shall get used to it.”

      “Naturally,” Sogrange answered. “For the moment, we are passing through a quiet time, necessitated by the mortal illness of Madame. You will be able to spend the next few weeks in getting used to your new position. You will have a great many callers, inspired by us, who will see that you make the right acquaintances and that you join the right clubs. At the same time, let me warn you always to be ready. There is trouble brewing just now all over Europe. In one way or another, we may become involved at any moment. The whole machinery of our society will be explained to you by your secretary. You will find him already installed at Porchester House. A glass of wine, Baron, before you leave.”

      Peter Ruff glanced at the clock.

      “There are my things to pack,” he began—

      Sogrange smiled.

      “Your valet is already on the front seat of the automobile which is waiting,” he remarked. “You will find him attentive and trustworthy. The clothes which you brought with you we have taken the liberty of dispensing with. You will find others in your trunk, and at Porchester House you can send for any tailor you choose. One toast, Baron. We drink to the Double-Four—to the great cause!”

      There was a murmur of voices. Sogrange lifted once more his glass.

      “May Peter Ruff rest in peace!” he said. “We drink to his ashes. We drink long life and prosperity to the Baron de Grost!”