"Perhaps we have hit upon it," said Mr. Stephens suddenly. "What do you think, Monsieur Baroff?"
"I do not think at all!" he said pettishly. "I am far too absorbed in my own tiresome job—that of keeping my young Princes and Grand Dukes out of scrapes—to trouble about this peculiar affair. But to return to what I was saying. You are of course aware that Mr. Gerald Burton is convinced, and very foolishly convinced (for there is not an atom of proof, or of anything likely to lead to proof), that this Mr. Dampier was murdered, if not by the Poulains, then by some friend of theirs in the Hôtel Saint Ange. The foolish fellow has as good as said so to more than one of our officials."
"I know such is Mr. Burton's theory," answered Mr. Stephens frankly, "and it is one very difficult to shake. In fact I may tell you that I have already tried to make him see the folly of the notion, and how it is almost certainly far from the truth."
"It is not only far from the truth, it is absolutely untrue," said the Russian impressively. "But what I now wish to convey to the young man is that should he be so ill-advised as to do what he is thinking of doing he will make it very disagreeable for the lady in whom he takes so strangely violent an interest—"
"What exactly do you mean, Monsieur Baroff?"
"This Mr. Gerald Burton is thinking of enlisting the help of the American newspaper men in Paris. He wishes them to raise the question in their journals."
"I do not think he would do that without consulting his father or me," said
Mr. Stephens quickly. He felt dismayed by the other's manner. Monsieur
Baroff's tone had become menacing, almost discourteous.
"Should this headstrong young man do anything of that kind," went on the detective, "he will put an end to the efforts we are making to find Mrs. Dampier's husband. In fact I think I may say that if the mystery is never solved, it will be thanks to his headstrong folly and belief in himself."
With this the disagreeable interview came to an end, and though the English lawyer never confided the details of this curious conversation to any living soul, he did make an opportunity of conveying Ivan Baroff's warning to Gerald Burton.
"Before leaving Paris," he said earnestly, "there is one thing I want to impress upon you, Mr. Burton. Do not let any newspaper people get hold of this story; I can imagine nothing that would more distress poor Mrs. Dampier. She would be exposed to very odious happenings if this disappearance of her husband were made, in any wide sense of the word, public. And then I need not tell you that the Paris Police have a very great dislike to press publicity; they are doing their very best—of that I am convinced—to probe the mystery."