"And M. Danneris?"
"Her father, I believe. His rôle was the man of reference, the respectable 'fence' who directs the game while others do the work."
"Had my trouble with the police here anything to do with the matter?"
"Not a bit of it. They are infernal rascals, reaping where they do not sow, and looking on careless travellers as legitimate game. Under the present régime they make half their living out of passport irregularities."
"I suppose," I added, "I had better notify the police at Brussels."
"And be the laughing stock of Europe for your pains. No, Mortimer, lie quiet here for a week or two, then take steamer through the Mediterranean home. By the by, did Danneris advance you money for the journey?"
"He gave me five hundred francs."
"Then you are not so badly off after all. Make your mind easy about Mlle. Adèle. She is hundreds of miles away by this."
"I wonder why she did not run away from the hotel the night I went to the theatre."
"Quien sabe? Let the dead past bury its dead."