"Indeed, no. Mr. Isidore spoke of it quite freely. It appears that a brother of the dead man has come into your hands. Is not that so?"
Prout grudgingly admitted that it was. He was also severe on the indiscretion of certain people. Mr. Isidore ought to know better. The Countess was charmed. Evidently she was going to do exactly as she pleased with this man. Every question that she asked him he contrived to answer in some way that betrayed his knowledge.
"Not that I am asking for sheer curiosity," she said gaily. "You see I am also in a position to throw a little light in a dark place. Do you know that the rest of the missing notes have been in my possession?"
Prout was surprised. Not that he ought to have been surprised after the strange things that had come in his way professionally. The way he conveyed the impression that all this was news to him was artistic. He asked a score of questions, he made voluminous notes solemnly in a large book.
"You have really been of great service to me, madame," he said. "It was very good of you to come and tell me straightforwardly. Now, let us see if we can trace these notes to the possession of the previous holder."
Leona Lalage intimated that was the only thing she desired for the moment. But at the same time she made it pretty clear to Prout that the thing was impossible. Her keen desire was to show him the impossibility of the proceeding, and induce him to give up any further investigations in that direction.
"You see, I have the good fortune to be exceedingly rich," she said, with her most fascinating smile. "I don't value money as much as I should. To me it is a mere medium for enjoyment. I gamble, and bet, and all that kind of thing, in fact I generally have a large sum of money in paper in the house. I might have got those notes from a betting man at Ascot, or at Goodwood, or even the card table. But at the same time I'll try my best to assist you."
Prout was profuse. He was very anxious over those notes. He had certainly had the good fortune to take into custody one René Lalage, the brother to Leon Lalage, who had been murdered in the Corner House.
"Strange they should be the same name as myself," the Countess said.
"Not in the least," Prout hastened to reply. "I find the name is a very common one at Marseilles, and along the Mediterranean generally."