Across the table all exchanged glances.
"He is very handsome," sighed the little Frenchman.
"That is an extreme privilege," said his chief, shrugging composedly and lighting a cigarette. "It is so interesting to the women, and they are so useful. It was the women who restored your English Charles II.—but they were his ruin in the end. It is a clue, this white orchid, that inspires in me two solutions immediately."
M. Duquesne suffered, temporarily, from a slight catarrh, occasioned, no doubt, by his wetting. But he lacked the courage to meet the drooping eye of his chief.
They were some distance from Laurel Cottage when Harborne, who carried the caped coat on his arm, exclaimed:
"By the way, who has the orchid?"
No one had it.
"M. Duquesne," said Lemage calmly, "of all the stupid pigs you are the more complete."
Sheffield ran back. Dawson had been left on duty outside the cottage. The inspector passed him and climbed back through the broken window. He looked on the table and searched, on hands and knees, about the floor.
"Dawson!"