“I know,” Hugh said. “I have heard lots of things about her. Her success at the tables is constant and uncanny. Even the Administration are interested in her winnings, and are often filled with wonder.”
“True, m’sieur. She keeps herself apart. She is a mysterious person—the most remarkable in all the Principality. We, at the Bureau, have heard all sorts of curious stories concerning her—once it was rumoured that she was the daughter of a reigning European sovereign. Then we take all the reports with the proverbial grain of salt. That Mademoiselle is a woman of outstanding intellect and courage, as well as of great beauty, cannot be denied. Therefore I tell you that I am intensely interested in this attempt upon her life.”
“And so am I,” Hugh said. “I have a strong reason to be.”
“Cannot you tell me that reason?” inquired the officer of the Surete, still looking at him very shrewdly. “Why fence with me?”
Henfrey hesitated. Then he replied:
“It is a purely personal matter.”
“And yet, you have said that you were not acquainted with Mademoiselle!” remarked Ogier suspiciously.
“That is quite true. The first time I have spoken to her was this evening, a few minutes before the attempt was made upon her life.”
“Then your theory is that while you stood in conversation with her somebody crept along the veranda and shot her—eh?”
“Yes.”