"Then you know what time it is?" asked the other incredulously.
"Why—er—I can tell by looking." He opened his eyes. "Ah, it's earlier than I thought, it's barely seven."
"How the devil do you know that?"
Coquenil did not answer for a moment. He was looking about him wonderingly, noting the damp stone walls and high vaulted ceiling of a large windowless chamber. By the uncertain light of the baron's candle he made out an arched passageway at one side and around the walls piles of logs carefully roped and stacked together.
"Your candle hasn't burned more than an hour," answered the detective.
"It might be a second candle."
M. Paul shook his head. "Then you wouldn't have been eating your breakfast orange. And you wouldn't have been waiting so patiently."
The two men eyed each other keenly.
"Coquenil," said De Heidelmann-Bruck slowly, "I give you credit for unusual cleverness, but if you tell me you have any inkling what I am waiting for——"
"It's more than inkling," answered the detective quietly, "I know that you are waiting for the girl."