"To the Hotel Savoy, mademoiselle," he answered.

She hung back.

"Why should I go with you?" she asked defiantly. "I have never seen you before. I don't know who you are."

"Mademoiselle," he replied, "your friend is in great danger. He will not be able to help himself. If you do not come with me, you will not be able to help him. And I assure you that he needs your help."

She got in without another word. He placed himself beside her, and the car started.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"My name," he told her, "is Dupont—Victorien Dupont. I arrived in London from Paris a few days ago."

"What have you to do with this?" she said doubtfully.

"That," he replied, "I cannot at the moment explain to you. I am concerned in this case for reasons of my own, which must remain my own for the present. I was in the garden when Christine Manderson was killed."

She started, staring at him.