"So he had; but an old friend, Mr. Stapleton"—
Lefevre did not allow her to finish. "Stapleton!" he fairly shouted. "He is employed by him? Mon Dieu!"
"Why not?" asked Grace in surprise.
"But—it was for that very case that I desired his assistance. And by this Stapleton, who cables that the whole police force of Paris are a lot of jumping jacks! Sacré! It is insufferable!"
"You wanted my husband for the same case?"
"Assuredly! What else? The child of this pig of a millionaire is stolen—what you call—kidnapped! We have been unable to find the slightest clue. I am in despair. My men assure me that it is the work of an American gang. I conceive the hope that Monsieur Duvall may know these men—that he may be in possession of information that will lead to their capture. This rich American, he has spoken with contempt of the Paris police. The efficiency of my office is questioned. My honor is at stake. I send for my friend Duvall, to assist me, and—sacré!—I find him already working for this man who has insulted me. It is monstrous!"
Grace could scarcely repress a smile. How excessively French the Prefect was, after all. "My husband did not know, when he agreed to take the case for Mr. Stapleton, that you wanted him. He does not know it now. He has not yet received your message."
"Then he does not know that you are in Paris?"
"No. I thought he would be crossing on the same boat. When I found that he wasn't, my first thought was to send him a wireless. Then I realized that I couldn't do so, without saying something about the business that had called me to Paris—without, in fact, mentioning you. I feared to do this—for there are so many people nowadays tapping the wireless. I thought it better to keep the matter a secret."
"And you did quite right. I wanted your husband to take up this case, quite independently, and without it being known to anyone that he was in my employ." He paused for a moment in deep thought. "No doubt his employment by Mr. Stapleton is to be kept equally secret."