"Fairly," Tranter replied. "I am under a great obligation to him. He saved my life in Paris, a year ago."
"Has he mentioned anything of the business that has brought him to this country?" the inspector asked, moving to the door.
"Only that he had come to solve a strange riddle."
A faint, rather grim smile passed over the inspector's face.
"I am obliged to you, sir," he said, opening the door. "If you will kindly return here at ten o'clock in the morning—and bring Monsieur Dupont with you—I shall ask you to show me the various places you have referred to in the garden."
When Tranter returned to the waiting-room, he found Monsieur Dupont asleep in an armchair. The room was very quiet. The danseuse had subsided into an interim condition of mute tension. Mrs. Astley-Rolfe was deathly white, but perfectly composed. The men made occasional remarks to each other.
"Mrs. Astley-Rolfe," the inspector called.