They drove up into Paris in an open fiacre with a soft cool wind blowing in their faces, hand in hand beneath the rug. Ramage stood up, and suddenly turned the key in the door in an off-hand manner. "If I were so, I should not be here," returned Trenchard. "Here's one of the thieves, Sir Rowland!" cried the attendant. "'A wonderful fact to reflect upon, that every human creature is constituted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other. "Mac, did you ever run across a missioner by the name of Enschede?" "Enschede?" McClintock stared at the ceiling. "Besides, you'll not be able to get in without me. The salt air was fresher than the stale air in the manor.
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