He helped Lily to get into the cab, and then briefly ordered the driver to go to the Condamine.
“You know the house of the Commissioner of Police?”
The man nodded. He did not look at all surprised. Monte Carlo is a place of unexpected happenings, of great and small tragedies.
M. Popeau put his fat right arm round his companion’s shoulder.
“Come, come,” he said. “Do not be frightened, my dear child.”
“Must you go to Monsieur Bouton?” she exclaimed. “Can’t we go straight to La Solitude?”
“I am not going to tell Monsieur Bouton anything. I am simply going to ask him to lend me two good stout fellows in case we should require help.”
They arrived in the quiet, solitary street she remembered so vividly in a very few seconds, but after M. Popeau had gone into the house she waited, quivering with impatience, in the darkness, for what seemed a long time; but at last he came back alone. “It’s all right,” he said briskly.
He did not add that he had told M. Bouton that he believed he was on a new track connected with the Vissering affair.
“I’ve arranged for two intelligent, strong young fellows to follow us in two or three minutes in a police motor, but they won’t come into the grounds of La Solitude unless I whistle for them. And now,” he said, “would it trouble you very much if you were to tell me why you came to see me to-night, and also why you made that—that very serious allegation against the Count and Countess Polda?”