"But it is not in the least beyond me," Lawrence remarked coolly, as he reached for a cigarette. "To a certain extent I hold the key to the situation. Accident strengthens my hands, as it generally does in dealing with people of this kind. And I am going to make a powerful new ally in this new business. I need not ask you if you are personally acquainted with Maitrank, Isidore?"
"Oh, I know the man well enough," Isidore replied. "I will give you an introduction to him right enough. But you won't get much from that quarter."
Lawrence begged to differ. In the first place, he anticipated considerable entertainment. He was not selfish, he said, and had no desire to keep it to himself.
"You must have your comic relief to every drama," he said. "We haven't had much humour up to now, but that is coming. By the way, I hope your Continental friend is not subject to apoplexy?"
Lawrence chuckled to himself with the air of a man who has a joke which is too good for the world in general. Isidore was puzzled and interested.
"Tell you what," he exclaimed, "I'll try and get Maitrank on the telephone. He has a sort of office at the Metropole."
It was a little before five when the trio reached the Metropole. A suite of rooms had been chartered by the Hungarian capitalist, and there he had already established a secretary and a clerk or two to look after his affairs. He was seated in his shirtsleeves, with a big black cigar in his mouth, when his visitors entered. He extended two fingers to Isidore, to the others he merely bowed.
"And what can I do for you?" he asked.
"You might be disposed to answer a few questions," said Bruce, quietly. "I was the doctor who was called in to see you last night. But for the courage of a young girl, I might today have given evidence at the inquest held on the body of a most distinguished capitalist called Maitrank."
Lawrence nodded approvingly. Bruce had struck the right note.