Victor Tramu stroked his brown beard. "Arnold! Arnold!" he repeated. "Melvill Arnold--an English name. He was an Englishman, of course?" "Certainly." "Arnold! Arnold!" he repeated, gazing blankly across the room. "And he was a friend of the suspect Shaw, eh?" "I presume so." "Arnold!" he again repeated reflectively, as though the name recalled something to his memory. "Was he an elderly, grey-haired man who had lived a great deal in Egypt and was an expert in Egyptology eh?" "He was." Tramu sprang to his feet, staring at me, utterly amazed. "And he is dead, you say?" "He is--he died in my presence." "Arnold!" he cried, turning to his colleagues. "All, yes. I remember now. I recollect--a most remarkable and mysterious mail. _Dieu_! what a colossal brain! What knowledge--what a staunch friend, and what a formidable enemy! And he is, alas! dead. Describe to me the circumstances in which he died, Monsieur Kemball," he added, in a voice full of regret and sympathy. In response, I briefly told him the story, much as I have related it in these pages, while all listened attentively. "And he actually compelled you to burn the banknotes, eh?" asked the officer of the Surete. "He wilfully destroyed his fortune--the money which I had hoped to recover--the money which he--But, no! He is dead, so we need say no more." "Then you knew poor Arnold, Monsieur Tramu?" I remarked. "Quite well," laughed the brown-bearded man seated at the table. "For years the police of Europe searched for him in vain. He was far too wary and clever for us. Instead of enjoying the pleasures of the capitals, he preferred the desert and his studies of Egyptian antiques. He moved about so quickly, and with so many precautions, that we never could lay hands upon him. Indeed, it is said that he kept two ex-agents of police, whose duty it was to watch us, and keep him informed regarding our movements. His was, indeed, a master mind--a greater man than your associate, Harvey Shaw." "What were the charges against Arnold?" I asked eagerly. "Why were you so anxious to secure his arrest?" "Oh, there were a dozen different charges," he replied. "But now he is dead, let his memory as a very remarkable man rest in peace. Our present action concerns the man Shaw. Where did you visit him in England?" "He visited me at my house, Upton End." "And you did not visit him?" "I saw him twice at the Carlton Hotel in London, and once at the Adelphi Hotel in Liverpool." "And you declare that you have no knowledge of his offences?" asked the official shrewdly. "If I had, I certainly should not have accepted his invitation to come here on a motor-tour," was my quick reply. "And the girl? You mean to say that you have no suspicion of her offence?" "Her offence!" I cried. "Tell me--I beg of you to tell me!--what allegation there is against her."