“So do I. The opinion of Professor Vega may throw some light upon the affair.”
“I shall call at the Princesa Hospital to-morrow,” I said, and then I inquired the latest information concerning De Gex and his French friend.
There was little to report. De Gex had not been out of the hotel, though Suzor had gone to purchase some cigars at eleven o’clock that morning. While Suzor was absent De Gex had, according to the friendly concierge, received a visitor, a middle-aged Spanish woman of the middle-class. She had asked to see him, and on her name being sent up the great one at once gave orders for her to be admitted.
Again the floor waiter became inquisitive, and heard the financier speaking in English with his visitor.
“Unfortunate! Most unfortunate!” he heard De Gex say. “I am very glad, however, that you have come to me so quickly. You had a telegram from Siguenza—eh?”
“I received it only a quarter of an hour ago, sir,” the woman had replied in broken English.
Then De Gex had apparently given her something for her services, and dismissed her.
“A telegram from Siguenza!” I exclaimed, when my friend Harry had told me this. “Now Siguenza is on the direct line from here to the Pyrenees and the French frontier! That telegram may be from Despujol while in flight. If so, the police have set a trap for him at his journey’s end, either at Jaca beneath Mont Perdu, or at Pamplona. I wonder if he’ll be caught?”
“He might go on to Zaragoza and then turn to Barcelona and Marseilles,” Hambledon remarked.