"No, sir."
Inspector Sheffield made his way to the little anteroom indicated. It was quite a tiny apartment, with a divan, two lounge-chairs and a Persian coffee-table. There was no one there.
A faint but very peculiar perfume hung in the air. Turkish tobacco went to the making of it, but something else too. Sheffield bent over the table.
In a little bronze ash-tray lay a cigarette end—yellow in colour.
At about the same moment that Chief Inspector Sheffield was trying to get used to the idea of the notorious Séverac Bablon's having actually officiated as best man at the wedding of the only daughter of the Marquess of Evershed, Mr. Thomas Sheard also had that astounding fact brought home to him.
For, in the wide publicity of Eccleston Square, the observed of many curious observers, Zoe Oppner stood shaking hands with this master of audacity.
Sheard joined them hurriedly.
"This is the height of indiscretion!" he exclaimed, glancing apprehensively about him. "You compromise others——"
Séverac Bablon checked him with a quiet smile.