“I'm on my holiday,” assented Pointer equably, “and Lille is quite an interesting town. Go on ahead, Monsieur: Watts is below; he'll get a taxi for mademoiselle.”
“Why didn't you stay and hear what M. Meunier had to tell about Jack, and the Amalgamated, and his wonderful discovery. To think he thought that he was no good at engineering!” Christine had asked Pointer to breakfast with her. She looked the ghost of herself after the excitements of the past night, but her eyes were alight.
“I didn't dare to go to sleep for fear it should be a dream.”
“My dear Miss West, I haven't the faintest idea of what M. Meunier talked to you and Mr. Beale about,” the Chief Inspector said very seriously. “Mr. Beale's written retraction was given quite freely, an all-important point which we, none of us, must forget.”
Christine digested this in silence.
“But how did you come to be there—how did you know about it all?”
“Routine,” Pointer explained blandly; “routine took me to Geneva, where lived the avocat to whom Mr. Beale had once telegraphed, and where I found Mr. Heilbronner. From information which came to hand”—a vision of himself piecing together minute scraps from a dustbin made Pointer speak with unction—“which came to hand, I found that Mr. Beale and he were extremely interested in a M. Meunier. I followed up this and that clue, and found that M. Meunier was M. Charles Bonnot of Lyons. More information coming to hand led to the belief that Mr. Beale, and incidentally Mr. Heilbronner, meditated getting hold of some important papers from M. Bonnot and yourself in Lille last night. M. Beauregard—one of M. Bonnot's men of business—took me on two days ago as an extra clerk for some special late work. Being an Alsatian explained my French, and no one suspected me.”
“But—how did you know that I should be there?”
“I couldn't think of any better or firmer friend of Mr. Carter's.” The Chief Inspector gave a little laugh, and Christine laughed too, and plied him with questions.