"Not at all. It is simple enough."
Monsieur Lefevre turned to him with a look of inquiry. "You mean, then, that you have solved it?"
"I do."
"Then may I ask that you will be good enough to explain it at once?"
Duvall laughed. "Monsieur Lefevre," he said, "I have a splitting headache, a bad wound in my cheek, and a burning desire to spend the next two hours talking to my wife." He drew Grace toward him, and put his arm through hers. "I am very much afraid that the explanation of the disappearance of Mr. Stapleton's boy will have to be put off until tomorrow."
Monsieur Lefevre watched the two as they went, arm in arm, up the stairs.
"Mon Dieu!" he said softly to himself. "They are just as much in love with each other as ever."