Among the big batch of papers was a report in English from the Metropolitan Police at Scotland Yard stating that the individual in question had arrived in London on a certain date, and stayed with a respectable family at Ham, near Richmond, representing himself to be a lawyer from Barcelona. Thence he had gone to Glasgow, where he stayed at a certain hotel, and then moved to Oban. Afterwards he had come south again to Luton, in Bedfordshire, where all trace of him had been lost.
“Well,” laughed Rivero triumphantly, “we shall take good care not to lose him now!”
“No,” said the Commissary of Police. “My men will be armed, and will take him, alive or dead!”
“And De Gex and Moroni will then instantly flee!” I said, full of regret that I had taken that step which might so easily result in destroying all my chances of solving that puzzling enigma of Gabrielle Tennison.
Nevertheless, it was a source of satisfaction that at last Despujol had, by my watchfulness, been run to earth.
Suddenly the telephone at Monsieur Coulagne’s elbow rang, and after listening, he exclaimed:
“The men are already posted round the hotel. So all we have to do is to await his return.”
Hence I went forth with Rivero and the Commissary. Led by the latter, we approached the Place de l’Esplanade through a labyrinth of narrow back streets until, on gaining the hotel, we saw idling in the vicinity a number of men who were apparently quite disinterested.
We entered the hotel boldly, and drawing back to the end of the lounge, after a whispered word with the concierge, we waited.