"And yet," went on Marbeau, "I do not see what all this can have to do with the disaster."
"Nor I," agreed M. Delcassé. "And yet as M. Cro——as our friend here says, all this was not done by accident."
"I would suggest," said Crochard, "that we return to M. Delcassé's apartment. We can talk there without fear of being overheard—a thing that is not possible among all these trees."
Marbeau took a last look at the wireless apparatus; then Crochard locked the door of the hut, and gave the key to the Minister.
"Where did you get this key, my friend?" asked Delcassé, looking at it curiously.
"About that there is no mystery," smiled Crochard. "I purchased it, together with that lock yonder, this morning. I found it necessary to break the original lock before I could enter the hut. It may be well to station a guard here," he added, "until you are ready to dismantle the place."
Delcassé nodded, and slipped the key into his pocket; and together they made their way to the waiting carriage.
The trip back was a silent one. Delcassé and Lépine, their brains aching with the effort, were trying to understand; Marbeau, convinced that the explosion could not have been caused by wireless, was marshaling his reasons; and Crochard—Crochard sat with placid countenance gazing straight ahead of him—but that placid countenance masked supreme intellectual effort.
At last the carriage stopped.
"You will wait here," said Delcassé to the driver, and, as soon as he reached his office, summoned his secretary and directed that a guard of four marines be sent by the carriage to the hut in the grove. Then he sat down, rolled a cigarette, and passed tobacco and paper to his companions. "And now," he said, looking at Crochard, "let us hear what you have to tell us."