"Yes," I said. Then I remembered that in telling him my story, I had been rather sparing with my account of the interview in Sangatte's study.
"He's in love with her," I added, "in his own way, and I've good reasons for knowing that it's a pretty poisonous one."
The words had hardly left my lips when there came a sharp knock at the door, and a police serjeant entered the room.
"There are two gentlemen, sir, who wish to see you and Mr. Gordon immediately. Shall I show them in here?"
"Yes, yes," I said. Then, turning to Gordon, I added eagerly: "It's Billy and your man. It must be."
The serjeant stepped forward and held out a small twisted note. "Very good, sir," he said. "And there's this letter. I was asked to hand it to you by a lady who was in court."
I took the note. A glance showed me that it was addressed in Lady Baradell's writing, and I thrust it into my pocket without further consideration. I had no thoughts now for anyone but Mercia.
My first sight of Billy as he entered told me that there were grounds for my anxiety. His face was pale and his mouth set in that peculiar steel-trap fashion which in his case always heralds something in the nature of a tight corner. He was followed by a small, dark, sharp-featured man in a blue suit.
"Much wrong, Billy?" I asked quietly.
"Sangatte's got hold of Mercia," he said, speaking a little hoarsely. "We're after them in a motor now. I think we shall be in time."