that is not true!"

The man drew himself up.

"It certainly is true, sir."

"It is not! Will you tell the truth to me--or to the police?"

"I have nothing to tell," the man insisted doggedly.

Monsieur Dupont appeared to be beside himself.

"_Dieu!_" he cried, "if any harm has come to Mr. Tranter, you shall pay
for it--all of you!"

The man shrugged his shoulders.

"I can only repeat, sir, that I have not seen Mr. Tranter, and that, so
far as I know, he has not been to this house. He is certainly not here
now. You are welcome to search every room for him if you like. Mr.
Copplestone left word that the house was to be open to any one who might
wish to go over it."

"He said that?" Monsieur Dupont exclaimed, his anger giving place to
astonishment.

"Yes, sir."

Monsieur Dupont turned away without another word, and walked slowly to
the gates. Reaching them, he stopped, and looked back.

"In the name of heaven," he muttered, "what happened in that house last
night?"

He went back to his car. Amazement and anxiety were blended on his face.
It was plain that his calculations had received an unexpected check, the
meaning of which he could not at present grasp. The sudden
transformation of the house and garden was a development that had not
entered into his scheme of procedure. It presented him with an entirely
new and unlooked-for problem. After a moment's indecision, he took out
his pocket-book, referred to an address, and gave it to his chauffeur.

During the return journey he sat with his face between his hands, buried
in thought. When the car stopped before a house in Grosvenor Gardens, he
lifted his head slowly and heavily, as if rousing himself from a stupor.

"Mrs. Astley-Rolfe, if you please," he said to the footman who answered
his summons.

"Mrs. Astley-Rolfe is not at home, sir."

"It is most important," said Monsieur Dupont. "I wished to speak to her
of a matter connected with Mr. George Copplestone."

"She went away early this morning, sir."

"Away?" Monsieur Dupont repeated.

"With Mr. Copplestone."

Monsieur Dupont started back.

"With Mr. Copplestone?"

"Yes, sir. Just before eight o'clock."

"With Mr. Copplestone...."

"He came in his car, sir, and insisted on Mrs. Astley-Rolfe getting up
to see him. She went away with him ten minutes afterwards, without
telling us where she was going or when to expect her back."

Monsieur Dupont's face had become blanker and blanker. He star