“It may and it may not,” he replied. “And now, Mademoiselle, I will take leave of you. There is much work to be done and I am required elsewhere. I will keep you informed of our progress, that is to say, as far as it is in my power. You are staying at the hotel?”
“Yes, for some time.”
“Thank you; good evening.” He bowed to old Madame de Warens, who had been a somewhat unintelligent spectator of all that had passed, he gave a slight, stiff bow to Hellier and left the room.
Hellier rose to his feet. “I must speak to that man,” he said, taking Cécile Lefarge’s hand in both his. “I must catch him before he leaves the hotel. May I see you to-morrow?”
“Yes, come early.”
He left the room with something in his hand. It was a small bunch of violets she had taken from her breast.
CHAPTER XXVII
IN the entrance hall of the Langham Freyberger drew a long, black, poisonous-looking cheroot from his pocket and lit it.
Then he buttoned his overcoat and prepared to depart. He felt jubilant. The whole of the pieces of the puzzle had fallen into their places under the influence of his intellect, and now this new sidelight had pointed at the possible road to the absolute and final move, which would allow him to place his hand upon the creator of the puzzle, and say: “You are mine.”