“Yes, of course.”
“And you heard his voice?”
“Yes.”
“Broken French?”
“Yes.”
“Now, sir, just think a moment. I have a slight idea. French name—spoke—”
“We mentioned no name.”
“One minute, sir. Spoke French—brother’s fellow-clerk and intimate—gentleman who went off—been staying at the house—long time in the lady’s society. What do you say now to its being this Mr Pradelle?”
Uncle Luke gave the table a thump which made the tea-things rattle, and Leslie started from his seat, gazing wildly at the officer, who smiled rather triumphantly.
“Great Heavens!” faltered Leslie, as if a new light had flashed into his darkened mind.