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Royce was an Irishman by birth; and that casual kind of Catholic that never remembers his religion until he is really in a hole. But Royce's request might have been less promptly complied with if one of the official detectives had not been a friend and admirer of the unofficial Flambeau; and it was impossible to be a friend of Flambeau without hearing numberless stories about Father Brown.
He was a large, arrogant bully, who brought with him two detectives for the purpose of searching our rooms and kit for forbidden articles. We will not waste time discussing his manners; he had none. The detectives seemed quite decent, and therefore cannot have been properly dehumanised by the powers that be.
Jeanne's statement that she had seen Forrest leaving the Red Hall with the car empty except for himself, he had never regarded seriously. Even now he could only conclude that she had been mistaken. "Have any large cheques been presented against your brother's account?" he asked. The Duke shook his head. "Not one," he answered. "Have the detectives any clue at all?"
Before Jasper could reply, an auto swung up the road and stopped near them. There were two men in the car and almost intuitively Jasper knew that they were detectives. They looked keenly at the two standing beneath the tree, and then asked the way to Captain Peterson's. Jasper told them, and without another word they turned to the left and sped up to the house. "Who are they, do you suppose?"
G. up, and that she would think it was burglars and open the window and call "Police!" and then these two detectives would rush in and handcuff him, and march him off to the police-court.
What she was thinking of as she sang with Kerry's coat in her hand it would be hard to discover by the process of elimination, as the detectives say when tracking down a criminal.
On the pavement opposite, before the small table of a cafe, a man was sitting the same man! For two days he had been there a gaunt and silent person with a wonderful trick of gazing away into space from the columns of his newspaper. But Estermen knew all about that! He knew, even, the man's name! He knew that he was one of the most persistent and successful of French detectives.
His voice hardened a little. "And, gentlemen, call off your detectives. The secret is now more yours than mine. It destroys you if it becomes known, not me! The New York police have turned this end of the investigation over to the local police, and they are fools; all the forms have been complied with, so this place is safe. Now call off your men!
"Don't be a fool," retorted the other impatiently, and the impertinence of the words had the effect intended of bracing the half-fainting girl. "He does not come because to do so would be madness because if he showed himself he would be at once arrested by Scotland Yard detectives. They believe him to be the murderer of his double a man named Goldenburg. There is a note he gave me for you."
"I most assuredly did! I do every night. But that does not prove that I killed my husband. Nor that Miss Ames did." "Then your theory " "I have no theory. Mr. Embury was killed it is for you detectives to find out how. But do not dare to say or imply that it was by the hand of his wife or his relative!"
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