I told him all, and my story certainly awakened much interest in him.
"What was the date of your leaving Brussels?"
"Wednesday, September 17."
"Just a month ago. Hand me that file of papers at your elbow."
He selected one, glanced at it a moment. "Ah, yes, here it is."
"What?" I cried eagerly, the blood flying to my face.
"What was the name of the advocate?" he persisted with all the gravity of a judge.
"Auguste Danneris."
"And his office, 170 Rue des Allumettes?"
"Yes, yes!"