“Oh, fairly well,” said the other, “as far as I am concerned. I have struck, I believe, an important development. I want a man sent to Paris to-night, it’s urgent, you can act in the absence of the chief?” “Yes.” “We have had that photograph of Müller reproduced?” “Yes, that has been done.” “Well, I want a man to take it to Paris. I want careful inquiries to be made amongst the artists of the Latin Quarter as to whether that is the portrait of an artist named Müller, who was murdered by a Monsieur Lefarge eight years ago. Here are the dates. I believe the thing will be easily verified. M. Le Notre, the sculptor, knew the man or seems to have known him from the funeral oration he made at his graveside.” “What’s the connexion?” asked Dennison. “Deep and most important. It has cleared the Gyde case up a good deal in my mind, but I can’t stop to tell you details, for it would take an hour. Will you send?” “Yes,” replied Dennison. He wrote out full instructions on a sheet of official paper, ordered a reprint of the Müller photograph to be brought him, ordered a certain officer to be summoned, and ten minutes later the man had departed for Victoria to catch the night mail to Paris. “Now I’m going to ring them up, with your leave, and ask them some questions,” said Freyberger, and five minutes later, with the receiver at his ear, he was in connexion with the Paris prefecture and the thin acerbitous voice of the night before was talking to him as though it had only ceased speaking a moment ago. Dennison, listening, heard: “I wish to make some inquiries as to the Lefarge case, November 9, 18—,” “Yes,” “The murder of the man Müller, Rue de Turbigo, No.—.” “Yes.” “Ah.” “I wish to inquire as to whether any close relative of M. Lefarge is still living,” “Yes.” “The daughter you say?” “You have her address?” “Well, I wish her to come to London and bring with her all possible evidence of the case, also to find out the whereabouts of the bust executed by Müller of her father. To bring it with her if possible, and to communicate with us as to when she will arrive in London, and where we may see her as soon as possible. Thanks. We are sending an agent to you to-night with a photograph of a man named Müller. We wish it verified if possible, believing it to be the portrait of the Müller in the Lefarge case. He was well known in the Quartier Latin, and M. Le Notre may be able to identify. Thanks.” He hung up the receiver. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER XXII HELLIER’S chambers in Clifford’s Inn were a part of the past. So was the staircase that led to them. Generations of lawyers and rats and the fogs of two hundred or so Novembers had left their traces on wall and ceiling, on floors that sagged, and stairs that groaned, and doors that jammed, and chimneys that smoked.