XXIV
A MYSTERIOUS CLASP
"Hullo! Hullo!"
Waking with a start, Juve rushed to the telephone. It was already broad daylight, but the detective had gone to bed very late and had been sleeping profoundly.
"Yes, it's I, Juve. The Sûreté? It's you, M. Havard? Yes, I am free. Oh! That's strange. No signs? I understand. Count on me. I'll go there and keep you informed."
Juve dressed in haste, went down to the street and hailed a taxi.
"To Sèvres, the foot of the hill at Bellevue, and look sharp about it!"
Juve left his taxi-cab, and mounted the slope on foot to the elegant villa inhabited by Dixon. All was quiet, and if he had not had word, the detective would have doubted that he was close to the scene of a crime, or at least of an attempted one.
Scarcely had he entered the grounds when a sergeant came toward him and saluted. Juve inquired: