“The affair has specially impressed me,” went on Beppo, “because the man was staying in the hotel where I stayed a couple of nights ago. It is an hotel kept by a person in whom we Poldas have an interest, for she is the daughter of an old servant of my grandfather.”
Lily was startled by Beppo’s words. That must, of course, be the Utrecht Hotel, where that horrid Mr. Vissering was staying.
“It is a commercial hotel in the Condamine,” went on Beppo. “Nothing smart about it all, but a respectable place, with a Dutch connection.”
His companion felt a sudden, unreasoning thrill of surprise and discomfort run through her. Standing there, in the sunshine, with that marvellous view spread out before her, it was as if she had been suddenly borne on a magic carpet to the sordid, dirty, little smoking-room where she had met that sinister old Dutchman! Beppo, absorbed in himself, and in the story he was telling, did not notice the look of apprehension which flitted across her face.
“Listen to what I am going to tell you,” he said earnestly. “It will prove to you that my warning as to your lonely walks is by no means foolish or exaggerated.”
He waited a moment and then went on:
“About a month ago there arrived at the Utrecht Hotel a rich Dutchman. He had made a lot of money out of the war, and he had come to Monte Carlo to see a little life. After a while the woman who keeps the hotel—her name is Sansot—discovered that the old fellow had with him a great deal, in fact an enormous lot, of money. He kept most of it on his person, sewn into his clothes, and in deep pockets he had had specially made for the purpose. He was a queer individual, and he did not care for gambling, in fact he very seldom went into the Rooms at all——”
“Did you know this old man?” asked Lily in a low voice.
Beppo shook his head.
“I? Of course not! But when I went down to the Utrecht Hotel the other evening I found the place in great commotion.”