"Because there are reasons—very strong reasons—why our meeting should be kept secret," the voice responded, the pair of sharp black eyes peering forth mysteriously from the two holes in the owl's face. "We are surrounded by spies. Here, in France, they have reduced espionage to a fine art."
"And yet the police have failed to discover the murderer of poor Mr. Thorne," I observed.
"They will never do that."
"Why not?"
"They will never solve the mystery without aid."
"Whose aid?"
"Mine."
"What?" I cried, starting quickly. "Are you actually in possession of some fact that will lead to the arrest of the culprit? Tell me quickly. Is it really certain that he was murdered, and did not die a natural death?"
"Ah!" he laughed. "I told you a few minutes ago that you would be anxious to hear my statement. Was I not correct?"
"Of course! I had no idea that you were in possession of any facts or evidence regarding the crime. What do you know about it?