The telegram was not for Mrs. Erskine after all, as a glance at its obviously business contents told her. It took some time to make this clear to the postman, who was an “extra,” and spoke with an atrocious Basque accent—acquired during the retreat from Mons, when Watts' company had got inextricably entangled with some of the blue Bérets. Finally the postman grasped the truth, apologised, and “returned to the post office to make further inquiries.” These seemed to lead him to a small hotel in a back street, after a change of toilet in the nearest dark doorway, which included turning his coat inside out, ripping off some narrow red braid from each trouser leg, and substituting one cap for another. That done, Watts went to bed, to speculate with some curiosity on exactly what had taken place in the villa during the colloquy in the central hall. He knew better than to ask his superior, and finally consoled himself with the thought that he would doubtless hear of it some day under “From information which has just come to hand.” Chapter X Eight o'clock next morning found the Chief Inspector wrapped in slumber. The Boots interrupted them to tell him that there was an insistent telephone call for Mr. Deane—a lady speaking from Cannes. Grateful for the fact that science did not yet enable Miss West to see him as well as hear him, Mr. Deane descended the stairs sleepily after the briefest of toilets. “Gladys speaking. I was at Monte Carlo last night with some Americans, and in the Rooms I saw a lady I had last seen in London at the hotel which we so often talk about. She had room number twelve there. You remember her, too, don't you?” “Perfectly. What was she doing when you caught sight of her?” A little gurgle came through. “Talking to Jack.” “Indeed!” Pointer's voice sounded as amused as hers, but his eyes were hard and keen. “Oh, indeed! Had she got rid of her cold?” “You'll have to ask him. I was miles away from them, stuck in a block of people around one of the tables. But it seems that Jack was only telling her the way out.” “You saw him later on?” “No. He too had vanished by the time I got clear. You see, he didn't expect me there. I had tried to 'phone him, but he was out all day. But I got through to him the first thing this morning.” Pointer's free hand gave an impatient tap to the table. “Bless all amateurs!” he would have liked to reply, but he changed it instead to “I see. But first about yourself. You didn't notice where Miss—umph——” “Twelve went to?” “No, I only saw her for the one second, but I thought you'd be interested.” “Quite right. How was she dressed?” “Beautifully, I guess. I can't get used to people leaving all their clothes behind them, but she had as much on as the wife of one of your ambassadors who was there, too, and Miss Les—Twelve had the finer jewels.” “Did Mr. Crane have anything interesting to tell you about her?”