"It does," I said, and then I related in detail my fruitless journey to Paris, and how the three fugitives had alighted at Munich from the westbound express from the Near East, and disappeared.
"Frémy, whom I think you know, has gone after them," I added.
"If Frémy once gets on the scent he'll, no doubt, find them," remarked my companion. "He's one of the most astute and clever detectives in Europe. So, if the case is in his hands, I'm quite contented that all will be done to trace them."
For two hours we sat together, while I related what the girl at Melbourne House had told me, and, in fact, put before him practically all that I have recorded in the foregoing pages.
Then, at last, I stood before him boldly and asked:
"In face of all this, can you suspect Miss Shand? Is she not that man's victim?"
He did not speak for several moments; his gaze was fixed upon the fire.
"Well," he replied, stirring himself at last, "to tell you the truth, Mr. Royle, I'm just as puzzled as you are. She may be the victim of this man we know to be an unscrupulous adventurer, but, at the same time, her hand may have used that triangular-bladed knife which we have been unable to find."
The knife! I held my breath. Was it not lying openly upon that table in the corner of the drawing-room at Cromwell Road? Would not analysis reveal upon it a trace of human blood? Would not its possession in itself convict her?
"Then what is your intention?" I asked, at last.