"About four o'clock, sir—four o'clock yesterday afternoon."
"How did it happen, sir," Lépine asked, turning to the manager, "that the notes were not deposited until yesterday?"
"Our deposit is made up at three o'clock each afternoon," the manager explained. "The notes came in too late for Tuesday's deposit, and were placed in our safe until the next day."
Lépine made a brief entry in his notebook, handed back the blank and rose.
"I thank you very much, gentlemen," he said. "You have been most obliging. The information you have given me will be of the very greatest service."
And with that he took his leave, returned light-heartedly to his office and sent a wireless to the captain of the Ottilie. The fugitive could not escape him now; it was merely a question of arresting him as he left the boat at New York; soon, soon, Lépine would have the pleasure of putting him on the grill, and, once there, the detective felt sure that there would be some important revelations before he got off again. One fact surprised him—that Vard should be an American citizen; but perhaps that was not the truth. If it was the truth, it would make the arrest at New York a little awkward; a formal complaint would have to be made, a charge of some kind trumped up. But there was no hurry—a week remained in which to mature the plans.
So Lépine, after sending a brief report in cipher to M. Delcassé, turned to the work which had accumulated during his absence in a happier and more contented frame of mind than he had enjoyed for some days.
"I shall relish my lunch to-day!" he reflected; but, alas! it was just as he was preparing to sally forth for it that the blow fell.
"A message for you, sir," his secretary said, and handed him a light-blue envelope.
"Ah!" said Lépine, "a wireless!" and he ripped it open eagerly. Then he remained staring at it with astounded eyes. Here is the message: