"This is your valet?" asked The Thinking Machine.
"Yes," said the young man.
"French, isn't he?"
"Yes."
"Speak English at all?"
"Very badly," said Cabell. "I use French when I talk to him."
"Does he know that you are accused of murder?" asked The Thinking Machine, in a quiet, conversational tone.
The effect of the remark on Cabell was startling. He staggered back a step or so as if he had been struck in the face, and a crimson flush overspread his brow. Jean, the valet, straightened up suddenly and looked around. There was a queer expression, too, in his eyes; an expression which Hatch could not fathom.
"Murder?" gasped Cabell, at last.
"Yes, he speaks English all right," remarked The Thinking Machine. "Now, Mr. Cabell, will you please tell me just who Miss Austin is, and where she is, and her mental condition? Believe me, it may save you a great deal of trouble. What I said in the note is not exaggerated."