“He did not call.”
“The Court will decide that.”
“Bah!—do your worst. I—I am Governor-General of Algeria, and you—you are an unknown alien.”
“True, you are on French soil, but there is such a thing as extradition. In a week I shall be in London, and then—”
“What then?” he asked, vainly endeavouring to remain calm.
“I shall place the Criminal Investigation Department at Scotland Yard in possession of such facts that your extradition will be immediately demanded.”
“You talk nonsense,” he cried impatiently. “Let us end this interview. I—I am really too busy to listen to such empty threats and idle boasts.”
“My only boast is that I shall be the means of bringing an assassin to justice,” I exclaimed quickly.
“I have not the slightest fear of the consequences of your ridiculous story,” he answered, with a sneer. “You are at liberty to act as you think proper. As for this remarkable evidence which you assert is in your possession, well—I do not know its nature, neither do I care.”
“Perhaps it will be as well if you are acquainted with its nature,” I said. “You declare that Fothergill did not call on you at Long’s on that day?”