If the Right Hon. Walter Belford had already revised his first estimate of Inspector Sheffield, this last request upset it altogether. He stared.
"I am glad to enjoy your co-operation, inspector," he said. "I prefer to know that a man of your calibre is of my camp! You are evidently aware that Harley has secured an elaborate series of snapshots of persons known to Miss Oppner and to my niece. Of the several hundreds of persons photographed, only one negative proved to be interesting. I have enlarged the photograph myself. Here it is!"
He took a photograph from the drawer.
"This gentleman," he continued, "was taken in the act of bowing to Lady Mary and Miss Oppner at the corner of Bond Street."
Sheffield glanced at the photograph. It represented a strikingly handsome man, with dark, curling hair and singularly flashing eyes, who was in the act of raising his hat.
"It's Séverac Bablon!" said the inspector simply.
"Ah!" cried Belford. "So I thought! So I thought!"
"May I take it with me?"
"I think not, inspector. You know the man; it is scarcely necessary." And with a certain displeasure he laid the enlargement upon the table.
The detective accepted his refusal with one of the awkward bows.