I saw the wall against which I had stood in defiance. An evening overcoat still lay upon a chair—the coat which old Gregory had abandoned in his hurried flight, when Stevens, the taxi-driver, had so opportunely appeared upon the scene.
"Nothing's been touched, sir," remarked the fat sergeant. "We've been waiting for you to see the place, and to tell us what you know."
I exchanged glances with Rayner.
"I know very little," I replied. "I simply fell in with a very dangerous set. They were evidently plotting something, and believing that I had overheard, attempted to put me out of the way."
"And the lady?"
"I imagine the same sort of thing happened to her. They considered she knew too much of their movements and might betray them."
"But what were they plotting?"
"They spoke in French, so I couldn't catch."
"Oh! They were foreigners—eh?" exclaimed the sergeant in surprise. "Coiners or anarchists, perhaps."
"Perhaps," I said. "Who knows?"