"You were in the garden too?" she cried.
"I was," he affirmed. "And I know that Monsieur Layton did not kill her."
"He didn't!" she declared. "He couldn't kill anything. He spends his time giving life—not taking it."
"The police will be satisfied that he did, and they will have a strong case. Unless we can help him by discovering the truth in time, he will not be able to clear himself. Are you prepared to work for him?"
"I told you," she repeated passionately, "I would die for him."
"It is well," he said. "There will be three people on his side. You—my friend, Mr. Tranter, who was also in the garden—and myself. Together we will save him. There will be separate tasks for us all. Mr. Tranter will be waiting at the hotel when we arrive, and we will settle our plan of campaign. Until then, mademoiselle, let us not refer to the subject again. Do me the favor thoroughly to compose yourself. In these matters coolness is of the utmost importance."
He compressed himself further into his corner, and closed his eyes. The girl said nothing more. The rapidity of the whole catastrophe, and the sudden appearance of this new adventure bewildered her. The huge mysterious stranger almost frightened her. Though his eyes were shut and he made neither sound nor movement, she felt that he was searching her, that he was straining all his mental forces to steal the thoughts that were throbbing through her mind. As they drew near to their destination, she fiercely exerted the self-control that was one of her least developed virtues, and by the time they reached the Savoy, and Monsieur Dupont opened his eyes, she was steady and watchful.
"Mademoiselle," said Monsieur Dupont softly, "you will be of the greatest assistance. Already you know the value of silence."
In his private sitting-room they found Tranter awaiting them.
"My friend," said Monsieur Dupont, "this lady will work with us. She is much attached to James Layton, and her assistance will be most valuable." He turned to her. "Mademoiselle, I have not the honor...."