"So there are. I only wish I had seen the little fellow, for they all agree that there was something about him which would make it impossible for any one who had once met him ever to forget him again." "That certainly is a most unusual quality." "So it is, my lord. They also tell me that if his eyes had not been so bloodshot, and if he had not looked so drawn and haggard, he'd have been an extraordinarily good-looking chap." "Really?" "Yes. It seems that he has large blue eyes, a fine little nose, not a bit red as you would expect, and as pretty a mouth as ever you'd see. His hair is auburn and he wears it rather long, which I don't think he'd do if he were a jockey. Besides, his skin is as fine as a baby's, though its colour is a grey-white with only a spot of red in the middle of each cheek." "He must be a queer-looking beggar!" "That's just it. That's why I think we shall soon spot him." "What did the elder Durand look like?" "The ordinary type of Frenchman. He is about twenty-eight years old, medium height, and inclined to be stout. He has dark hair, a little thin at the temples, dark moustache, and dark eyes. His features are nondescript." "On the night of the murder you say they returned to the hotel at about midnight?" "Somewhere around then." "Was their behaviour in any way noticeable?" "The porter was so sleepy that he can't remember much about it. He had an impression that they came in arm in arm and went quietly upstairs." "They were alone?" "Certainly." "But what do you think they had done with Lady Wilmersley?" "But, my lord, you didn't expect that they would bring her to the hotel, did you? If they were her friends, their first care would be for her safety. If they were not--well, we will have to look for another victim, that is all." "You think that there is that possibility?" inquired Cyril eagerly. "I do, my lord." The Inspector rose ponderously to his feet. "I mustn't keep you any longer." He hesitated a moment, eyeing Cyril doubtfully. There was evidently still something he wished to say. Cyril had also risen to his feet and stood leaning against the mantelpiece, idly wondering at the man's embarrassment. "I trust her Ladyship has quite recovered?" the Inspector finally blurted out. CHAPTER XI THE INSPECTOR INTERVIEWS CYRIL Cyril felt the muscles of his face stiffen. He had for days been dreading some such question, yet now that it had finally come, it had found him completely unprepared. He must parry it if he could. He must fight for her till the last ditch.