“Oh, I say!” said M. Masseron. “What does this mean? Why, here’s the note they brought me at the police-office: ‘Captain Belval’s compliments to M. Masseron. The problem of the golden triangle is solved. The eighteen hundred bags are at his disposal. Will he please come to the Quai de Passy, at six o’clock, with full powers from the government to accept the conditions of delivery. It would be well if he brought with him twenty powerful detectives, of whom half should be posted a hundred yards on one side of Essarès’ property and the other half on the other.’ There you are. Is it clear?”
“Perfectly clear,” said Patrice, “but I never sent you that note.”
“An extraordinary man who deciphered all those problems like so many children’s riddles and who certainly will be here himself to bring you the solution.”
“What’s his name?”
“I sha’n’t say.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that! Secrets are hard to keep in war-time.”
“Very easy, on the contrary, sir,” said a voice behind M. Masseron. “All you need do is to make up your mind to it.”
M. Masseron and Patrice turned round and saw a gentleman dressed in a long, black overcoat, cut like a frock-coat, and a tall collar which gave him a look of an English clergyman.
“This is the friend I was speaking of,” said Patrice, though he had some difficulty in recognizing Don Luis. “He twice saved my life and also that of the lady whom I am going to marry. I will answer for him in every respect.”