They looked surprised; Hugh went on:
“Will you let him know the position I’m in? If any one can find them he can.”
The chief of police nodded. “He’s already interested in the case.”
The magistrate talked with the others in the Monegascan dialect. Finally he said:
“We will see what we can do. In the meantime you must remain here. We will investigate the affair thoroughly. If you are innocent you need have no fear of the result. That is all I can say for the present.”
Hugh was conducted back to his cell, and left to his own reflections. He sat for a long time in a state verging on stupor. The professor murdered,—that was the thought that drove all others from his head, made him forget even his own plight. The professor murdered! But by whom? There were those who had reason enough to want the old man out of the way; there were those who would rejoice at his death. But assassination! No, they would surely draw the line at that. Krantz had a drastic way of dealing with criminals, but he would never stain his hands with the blood of honest men. Still, he had admitted he could not always keep his subordinates in check.
If, then, it had not been the act of an irresponsible tool of Krantz, who else had an interest in disposing of the professor? As he lay through the long day he pondered on this. How slowly the time passed! He thought sadly that all his friends had gone. MacTaggart, Gimp, Tope, he was sure they would have hurried to his aid. Margot, too! Why had she not come? She must know by now where he was. A strange longing to see her came over him. It would be more comforting to see her than any one else.
In the evening to his surprise Krantz arrived. The detective entered with a smile of cheerful mockery that was rather irritating to a man in Hugh’s position.
“Hullo,” he said, laughing as if it was quite funny, “you’ve got yourself into a nice mess.”
“Have I?”