But all the time, despite the real absorption of Lemoine in his own narrative, Virginia had a feeling that he had some other object in view. Moreover, she judged that Lemoine, under cover of his story, was deliberately striking out his own course across the park. They were not just strolling idly. He was deliberately guiding them in a certain direction. Suddenly, he broke off his story and looked round. They were standing just where the drive intersected the park before turning an abrupt corner by a clump of trees. Lemoine was staring at a vehicle approaching them from the direction of the house. Virginia’s eyes followed his. “It’s the luggage cart,” she said, “taking Isaacstein’s luggage and his valet to the station.” “Is that so?” said Lemoine. He glanced down at his own watch and started. “A thousand pardons. I have been longer here than I meant—such charming company. Is it possible, do you think, that I might have a lift to the village?” He stepped out on to the drive, and signalled with his arm. The luggage cart stopped, and after a word or two of explanation Lemoine climbed in behind. He raised his hat politely to Virginia, and drove off. The other two stood and watched the cart disappearing with puzzled expressions. Just as the cart swung round the bend, a suit-case fell off into the drive. The cart went on. “Come on,” said Virginia to Bill. “We’re going to see something interesting. That suit-case was thrown out.” “Nobody’s noticed it,” said Bill. They ran down the drive towards the fallen piece of luggage. Just as they reached it, Lemoine came round the corner of the bend on foot. He was hot from walking fast. “I was obliged to descend,” he said pleasantly. “I found that I had left something behind.” “This?” said Bill, indicating the suit-case. It was a handsome case of heavy pigskin, with the initials H. I. on it. “What a pity!” said Lemoine gently. “It must have fallen out. Shall we lift it from the road?” Without waiting for a reply, he picked up the suit-case, and carried it over to the belt of trees. He stooped over it, something flashed in his hand, and the lock slipped back. He spoke, and his voice was totally different, quick and commanding. “The car will be here in a minute,” he said. “Is it in sight?” Virginia looked back towards the house. “No.” “Good.” With deft fingers he tossed the things out of the suit-case. Gold-topped bottle, silk pyjamas, a variety of socks. Suddenly his whole figure stiffened. He caught up what appeared to be a bundle of silk underwear, and unrolled it rapidly. A slight exclamation broke from Bill. In the centre of the bundle was a heavy revolver. “I hear the horn,” said Virginia. Like lightning, Lemoine repacked the suit-case. The revolver he wrapped in a silk handkerchief of his own, and slipped into his pocket. He snapped the locks of the suit-case, and turned quickly to Bill.