“Is he in England, then?” asked Anthony sharply. “You say that he was released a few months ago. Didn’t you keep track of him?” A rather rueful smile overspread the French detective’s face. “We tried to, monsieur. But he is a devil, that man. He gave us the slip at once—at once. We thought, of course, that he would make straight for England. But no. He went—where do you think?” “Where?” said Anthony. He was staring intently at the Frenchman, and absent-mindedly his fingers played with a box of matches. “To America. To the United States.” “What?” There was sheer amazement in Anthony’s tone. “Yes, and what do you think he called himself? What part do you think he played over there? The part of Prince Nicholas of Herzoslovakia.” The match-box fell from Anthony’s hand, but his amazement was fully equalled by that of Battle. “Impossible.” “Not so, my friend. You, too, will get the news in the morning. It has been the most colossal bluff. As you know, Prince Nicholas was rumoured to have died in the Congo years ago. Our friend, King Victor, seizes on that—difficult to prove a death of that kind. He resurrects Prince Nicholas, and plays him to such purpose that he gets away with a tremendous haul of American dollars—all on account of the supposed oil concessions. But by a mere accident, he was unmasked, and had to leave the country hurriedly. This time he did come to England. And that is why I am here. Sooner or later he will come to Chimneys. That is, if he is not already here!” “You think—that?” “I think he was here the night Prince Michael died, and again last night.” “It was another attempt, eh?” said Battle. “It was another attempt.” “What has bothered me,” continued Battle, “was wondering what had become of M. Lemoine here. I’d had word from Paris that he was on his way over to work with me, and I couldn’t make out why he hadn’t turned up.” “I must indeed apologize,” said Lemoine. “You see, I arrived on the morning after the murder. It occurred to me at once that it would be as well for me to study things from an unofficial standpoint without appearing officially as your colleague. I thought that great possibilities lay that way. I was, of course, aware that I was bound to be an object of suspicion, but that in a way furthered my plan since it would not put people I was after on their guard. I can assure you that I have seen a good deal that is interesting in the last two days.” “But look here,” said Bill, “what really did happen last night?” “I am afraid,” said M. Lemoine, “that I gave you rather violent exercise.” “It was you I chased then?”