“I'll write it.” Mr. Beale sat down at the desk, and rapidly filled a sheet of blue and white crossed paper which M. Meunier handed him. It was a clever piece of writing. Facts had just come to light, so wrote Mr. Beale, which entirely altered the case against Mr. Carter as far as the accusations of theft or embezzlement were concerned. The jewellery found in his trunk had been handed to him for disposal by a member of his (Beale's) family, unbeknown to that gentleman, and a careful examination of the books of the Toronto Mills showed that, though there had been errors in the book-keeping, there was none whatever in the percentages paid to the Amalgamated, which therefore gladly withdrew all claims against the managers, Robert Erskine, deceased, and John Carter, and were cancelling the warrants taken out mistakenly against them. “Heilbronner'll sign it, of course, if I tell him to,” Mr. Beale observed laconically. “One copy goes to our New York police, and one to Scotland Yard. Is that what you want?” Mr. Beale was certainly a good loser. “_Parfaitment._” The Frenchman opened the door and called in the Chief Inspector, who witnessed the American's signature, together with Daru. Mr. Beale rose. “There, I'm through. I guess I'll go to my hotel.” “To mine, Monsieur, to mine, until Mr. Heilbronner signs these—you can post these to him to-night with a letter explaining your plight. Till then you stay with me, and M. the Chief Inspector he stays, too, _hein_?” “I'm on my holiday,” assented Pointer equably, “and Lille is quite an interesting town. Go on ahead, Monsieur: Watts is below; he'll get a taxi for mademoiselle.” “Why didn't you stay and hear what M. Meunier had to tell about Jack, and the Amalgamated, and his wonderful discovery. To think he thought that he was no good at engineering!” Christine had asked Pointer to breakfast with her. She looked the ghost of herself after the excitements of the past night, but her eyes were alight. “I didn't dare to go to sleep for fear it should be a dream.” “My dear Miss West, I haven't the faintest idea of what M. Meunier talked to you and Mr. Beale about,” the Chief Inspector said very seriously. “Mr. Beale's written retraction was given quite freely, an all-important point which we, none of us, must forget.” Christine digested this in silence. “But how did you come to be there—how did you know about it all?”