"They have been crying it in the streets of Geneva, then, for more than half an hour."
He sat drumming impatiently upon the table until the bill should be brought.
"By Heaven, that's clever!" he muttered savagely. "There's a man who gets ahead of me at every turn. See, Lemerre, I take every care, every precaution, that no message shall be sent. I let it be known, I take careful pains to let it be known, that no message can be sent without detection following, and here's the message sent by the one channel I never thought to guard against and stop. Look!"
The murder at the Villa Rose and the mystery which hid its perpetration had aroused interest. This new development had quickened it. From the balcony Hanaud could see the groups thickening about the boy and the white sheets of the newspapers in the hands of passers-by.
"Every one in Geneva or near Geneva will know of this message by now."
"Who could have told?" asked Ricardo blankly, and Hanaud laughed in his face, but laughed without any merriment.
"At last!" he cried, as the waiter brought the bill, and just as he had paid it the light of a match flared up under the trees.
"The signal!" said Lemerre.
"Not too quickly," whispered Hanaud.
With as much unconcern as each could counterfeit, the three men descended the stairs and crossed the road. Under the trees a fourth man joined them—he who had lighted his pipe.