"Plant a willow by my grave, The weeping willow that I love...." I walked away. Three minutes later--I am continuing the narrative as he told it to me next day--three minutes later, Lupin rang at the door of the Hotel Repstein. * * * * * "Is monsieur le baron at home?" "Yes," replied the butler, examining the intruder with an air of surprise, "but monsieur le baron does not see people as late as this." "Does monsieur le baron know of the murder of M. Lavernoux, his land-agent?" "Certainly." "Well, please tell monsieur le baron that I have come about the murder and that there is not a moment to lose." A voice called from above: "Show the gentleman up, Antoine." In obedience to this peremptory order, the butler led the way to the first floor. In an open doorway stood a gentleman whom Lupin recognized from his photograph in the papers as Baron Repstein, husband of the famous baroness and owner of Etna, the horse of the year. He was an exceedingly tall, square-shouldered man. His clean-shaven face wore a pleasant, almost smiling expression, which was not affected by the sadness of his eyes. He was dressed in a well-cut morning-coat, with a tan waistcoat and a dark tie fastened with a pearl pin, the value of which struck Lupin as considerable. He took Lupin into his study, a large, three-windowed room, lined with book-cases, sets of pigeonholes, an American desk and a safe. And he at once asked, with ill-concealed eagerness: "Do you know anything?" "Yes, monsieur le baron." "About the murder of that poor Lavernoux?" "Yes, monsieur le baron, and about madame le baronne also." "Do you really mean it? Quick, I entreat you...." He pushed forward a chair. Lupin sat down and began: "Monsieur le baron, the circumstances are very serious. I will be brief." "Yes, do, please." "Well, monsieur le baron, in a few words, it amounts to this: five or six hours ago, Lavernoux, who, for the last fortnight, had been kept in a sort of enforced confinement by his doctor, Lavernoux--how shall I put it?--telegraphed certain revelations by means of signals which were partly taken down by me and which put me on the track of this case. He himself was surprised in the act of making this communication and was murdered." "But by whom? By whom?" "By his doctor." "Who is this doctor?" "I don't know. But one of M. Lavernoux's friends, an Englishman called Hargrove, the friend, in fact, with whom he was communicating, is bound to know and is also bound to know the exact and complete meaning of the communication, because, without waiting for the end, he jumped into a motor-cab and drove to the Prefecture of Police." "Why? Why?... And what is the result of that step?" "The result, monsieur le baron, is that your house is surrounded. There are twelve detectives under your windows. The moment the sun rises, they will enter in the name of the law and arrest the criminal."