"You are right. I cannot yet quite see what he wanted in old Frick's fire-proof room. But one thing you can be certain of, and that is, that he was there for no good. In some way or other we must get old Frick's permission to visit the room, as you call it. I fancy that is where we shall find the key to the mystery. But how shall we be able to see him? He won't receive me, and I am afraid he will have heard of our friendship, and so refuse to see you, Frederick."
"I shall manage to see old Frick," said Clara, "and get you admitted, as well. But I am ashamed of you, Monk! Have you quite forgotten Sigrid?"
"Forgotten Sigrid!" answered Monk, blushing like a peony.
"Yes, forgotten her, I say. What was the exact time by the clock when the photograph was taken in the mirror?"
"It must have been twenty minutes past six."
"And the whole of the time between six and seven Sigrid sat with her uncle, drinking tea with him. Wasn't that so?"
"Yes."
"Then her innocence is proved, whether the Englishman had been inside old Frick's fire-proof room, or not. Why don't you telegraph to Sigrid at once? Why haven't you done so half an hour ago? Rather than marry a detective, I would see myself—"
Monk tried to answer this terrible volley, but was scornfully sent about his business.
So it was arranged that Clara should go to old Frick, and as soon as Monk and I had telegraphed to New York, we were to go to Villa Ballarat and wait outside till Clara gave a signal that the siege was raised.