Valentin, however, did not appear to be greatly alarmed by the detective's charges. "You are mistaken, Monsieur," he said quietly. "I know nothing about the affair."
"Then what does this note mean?"
"That I cannot tell you. And, if you have any other questions to ask, I beg that you will come again—at another time. I, as you see, am engaged for the moment." He indicated Grace with a glance.
Duvall looked about, then turned to the door. His object in coming had been fulfilled. He had seen Valentin—located him—he hoped frightened him. It was one of his theories that a man, frightened by the knowledge that he is being closely pursued, is far more likely to make a false step, than one who fancies himself secure.
He darted a curious glance at Grace, as he left the room; but her face, concealed in the shadow, told him nothing. Her silent presence filled him with strange disquietude. He stationed himself outside the doorway of the house, determined to learn, if possible, who she was, by following her, when she left the place. He had not counted on Valentin's being with her.
The two left the house together, and the man at once called a cab. Into this he put Grace, all the while eying Duvall savagely. The latter gave up all ideas of pursuing Grace, and returned, somewhat disgruntled, to his hotel. He had barely reached it, when a message was brought to him, summoning him to Mr. Stapleton's house.
Grace, meanwhile, had driven at once to the banker's, and delivered to him the message with which she had been intrusted by the man in the black mask that morning.
Mr. Stapleton's face grew more and more angry as she proceeded with her story. He jumped up, as soon as he learned the purport of it, and, ringing up Duvall's hotel, requested the detective to come to him at once. Then he turned to Grace.
"You have no idea where this place is located?"
"Not the slightest."