“Yes.”
“I expected him to come with us to-night, but he has vanished from his hotel.”
“I know. That is why I am here,” was the reply.
There was a note in the stranger’s voice which struck her as somehow familiar, but she failed to recognize the individual. She was as quick at remembering voices as she was at recollecting faces. Who could he be, she wondered?
“You said you had a message for me,” she remarked.
“Yes,” he replied. “I am here to tell you that a serious contretemps has occurred, and that Mr. Henfrey has escaped from France.”
“Escaped!” she echoed. “Why?”
“Because the police suspect him of a crime.”
“Crime! What crime? Surely he is innocent?” she cried.
“He certainly is. His friends know that. Therefore, Miss Ranscomb, I beg of you to betray no undue anxiety even if you do not hear from him for many weeks.”