"I was busy measuring the rooms," said Wilson, "when I saw a shadow in the garden. I had only one idea...."
"To catch the shadow.... The idea was excellent.... Only, look here, Wilson," said Shears, helping his friend up and leading him away, "next time you get a letter from me, make sure first that it's not a forgery."
"Then the letter was not from you?" asked Wilson, who began to have a glimmering of the truth.
"No, worse luck!"
"Who wrote it, then?"
"Arsène Lupin."
"But with what object?"
"I don't know, and that's just what bothers me. Why the deuce should he take the trouble to disturb your night's rest? If it were myself, I could understand, but you.... I can't see what interest...."
"I am anxious to get back to the hotel."
"So am I, Wilson."