“Now,” said the detective, “have you the bust this man executed of M. Lefarge?”
“Yes,” replied Cécile, “I have it in the next room, I brought it with me to-day, hoping it might be of use.”
Freyberger looked at her with admiration.
“It will be of great use, and I must thank you for bringing it. I would like to see it and to show it to a friend whom I expect here shortly. He is a Greek who has reconstructed the Gyde bust, and his opinion is necessary to me in the case.”
Mademoiselle Lefarge passed into an adjoining room, from which she presently emerged, carrying something in her arms; something wrapped in a white cloth.
She placed this object on a table and, removing the cloth, exposed the bust of M. Lefarge, which we have already seen.
Freyberger examined the thing attentively, murmuring to himself as he did so. Mademoiselle Lefarge, watching him narrowly, imagined that he seemed pleased.
“Well,” she said at last, “do you think it will be of service to you in your investigations? What do you think of it?”
“Ah, mademoiselle,” he replied, “my opinion on a work of art is, perhaps, of no great value and for that reason I have sent for a friend who is a magician where these matters are concerned, but,” looking at his watch, “he is late, this magician.”
Scarcely had he spoken than a knock came to the door and a waiter appeared bearing a salver, on which reposed a filthy-looking visiting card.