“Yes, Mr. Fish. Did you not tell us that first night that King Victor had lately come to England from America? So has Mr. Fish come to England from America. It is true that he brought a letter of introduction from a very well-known man, but surely that would be a simple thing for a man like King Victor to manage. He is certainly not what he pretends to be. Lord Caterham has commented on the fact that when it is a question of the first editions he is supposed to have come here to see he is always the listener, never the talker. And there are several suspicious facts against him. There was a light in his window the night of the murder. Then take that evening in the Council Chamber. When I met him on the terrace he was fully dressed. _He_ could have dropped the paper. You didn’t actually _see_ Mr. Cade do so. Mr. Cade may have gone to Dover. If he did it was simply to investigate. He may have been kidnapped there. I say that there is far more suspicion attaching to Mr. Fish’s actions than to Mr. Cade’s.” The Frenchman’s voice rang out sharply: “From your point of view, that well may be, Madame. I do not dispute it. And I agree that Mr. Fish is not what he seems.” “Well, then?” “But that makes no difference. _You see, Madame, Mr. Fish is a Pinkerton’s man._” “What?” cried Lord Caterham. “Yes, Lord Caterham. He came over here to trail King Victor. Superintendent Battle and I have known this for some time.” Virginia said nothing. Very slowly she sat down again. With those few words the structure that she had built up so carefully was scattered in ruins about her feet. “You see,” Lemoine was continuing, “we have all known that eventually King Victor would come to Chimneys. It was the one place we were sure of catching him.” Virginia looked up with an odd light in her eyes, and suddenly she laughed. “You’ve not caught him yet,” she said. Lemoine looked at her curiously. “No, Madame. But I shall.” “He’s supposed to be rather famous for outwitting people, isn’t he?” The Frenchman’s face darkened with anger. “This time, it will be different,” he said between his teeth. “He’s a very attractive fellow,” said Lord Caterham. “Very attractive. But surely—why, you said he was an old friend of yours, Virginia?” “That is why,” said Virginia composedly, “I think M. Lemoine must be making a mistake.” And her eyes met the detective’s steadily, but he appeared in no wise discomfited. “Time will show, Madame,” he said. “Do you pretend that it was he who shot Prince Michael?” she asked presently. “Certainly.” But Virginia shook her head. “Oh, no!” she said. “Oh, no! That is one thing I am quite sure of. Anthony Cade never killed Prince Michael.” Lemoine was watching her intently.