Mr. Peters gave a grunt of undisguised dissatisfaction, as he curled himself in his chair and examined carefully the young man before him.
“Now, Mr. Henfrey,” he said at last. “I am very sorry for you. I happen to know something of your present position, and the great difficulty in which you are to-day placed by the clever roguery of others. Will you please describe to me accurately exactly what occurred on that fateful night at the Villa Amette? If I am to assist you further it is necessary for you to tell me everything—remember, everything!”
Hugh paused and looked the stranger straight in the face.
“I thought you knew all about it,” he said.
“I know a little—not all. I want to know everything. Why did you venture there at all? You did not know the lady. It was surely a very unusual hour to pay a call?” said the little man, his shrewd eyes fixed upon his visitor.
“Well, Mr. Peters, the fact is that my father died in very suspicious circumstances, and I was led to believe the Mademoiselle was cognizant of the truth.”
The other man frowned slightly.
“And so you went there with the purpose of getting the truth from her?” he remarked, with a grunt.
Hugh nodded in the affirmative.
“What did she tell you?”