“But how cleverly my bag was taken!” she said. “Who took it? He was an elderly man.”
“Roddy Redmayne,” was Bourne’s reply. “The man who, if your Highness will consent to meet him, will hand it back to you intact.”
“You knew, I suppose, that it contained jewels?”
“We knew that it contained something of value. Roddy was advised of it by telegraph from Lucerne.”
“From Lucerne? Then one of your companions was there?”
“Yes, at your hotel. An attempt was made to get it while you were on the platform awaiting the train for Paris, but you kept too close a watch. Therefore, Roddy received a telegram to meet you upon your arrival in Paris, and he met you.”
What he told her surprised her. She had been quite ignorant of any thief making an attempt to steal the bag at Lucerne, and she now saw how cleverly she had been watched and met.
“And when am I to meet Mr Redmayne?” she asked.
“At any place and hour your Imperial Highness will appoint,” was his reply. “But, of course, I need not add that you will first give your pledge of absolute secrecy—that you will say nothing to the police of the way your jewels have been returned to you.”
“I have already given my promise. Mr Redmayne may rely upon my silence. Where shall we fix the meeting? Here?”