"Quite well. He was my friend."
"I see he is accused of murdering a woman, name unknown, in his apartment," remarked the official.
"The name is now known—it has been discovered by me, m'sieur. The name of the dead girl is Marie Bracq."
The little man half rose from his chair and stared at me.
"Is this the truth, m'sieur?" he cried. "Is this man named Kemsley, or Cane, accused of the assassination of Marie Bracq?"
"Yes," I replied.
"But this is most astounding," the Belgian functionary declared excitedly. "Marie Bracq dead! Ah! it cannot be possible, m'sieur! You do not know what this information means to us—what an enormous sensation it will cause if the press scents the truth. Tell me quickly—tell me all you know," he urged, at the same time taking up the telephone receiver from his table and then listening for a second, said in a quick, impetuous voice, "I want Inspector Frémy at once!"