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Updated: September 12, 2025
As a military man he knew well how zealously the secrets of all fortresses are guarded. When, on the previous evening, Le Pontois had declared that it would be an easy matter for him to be granted a view of that great stronghold hidden away among the hill-tops, he had remarked: "Of course, my dear Paul, I would not for a moment dream of putting you into any awkward position.
"My host is an interesting old countryman, and has told me quite a lot about the war. He was wounded when the Germans shelled Verdun. He has told me that he knows Paul Le Pontois, for his son Jean is his servant." "Why, Mr. Fetherston, you are really ubiquitous," cried the girl in confusion. "Why have you been watching us like this?"
Le Pontois knows nothing, therefore he can make no statement unless, of course, your own actions were suspicious." "They were not I am convinced of that." "Then you have no need to fear. Your son-in-law will certainly not endeavour to implicate you.
"But surely you can remain a day or two longer, Dad?" exclaimed Madame Le Pontois. "The weather is delightful just now, and I hear it is too dreadful for words in England." "I, too, have to be back to prepare for going away with Mrs. Caldwell," Enid remarked. "But surely these solicitors will wait? There is no great urgency there can't be!
"But such an action is abominable!" cried Le Pontois angrily. "That my house should be turned upside down and searched as though I were a common thief, a forger, or a coiner is beyond toleration. I shall demand full inquiry. My friend Carlier shall put an interpellation in the Chamber!" "Monsieur le Ministre acts upon his own discretion," the detective replied coldly.
Those present moved noiselessly over the thick Turkey carpet, while the double windows excluded every sound from the busy boulevard below. "Your name," exclaimed the great Bézard sharply, at last raising his eyes from a file of papers before him "your name is Paul Robert Le Pontois, son of Paul Le Pontois, rentier of Severac, Department of Aveyron.
Among those present were the author of the piece himself, a dark young man with smooth hair parted in the centre and wearing an exaggerated black cravat. When the curtain fell the audience rose to chatter and comment, and were a long time before they dispersed. Paul Le Pontois waited for Enid, Sir Hugh accompanying Blanche and little Ninette home in the hired brougham.
Since they had met in secret Weirmarsh had made a flying visit to Brussels, where he had conferred with two friends of his. Upon their suggestion he was now acting. If Paul Le Pontois were secretly denounced and afterwards found innocent, then it would only mystify the French police; the policy pursued towards the Sûreté, as well as towards Sir Hugh, was a clever move on Weirmarsh's part.
She was dressed in a high-necked dress of black lace, and wore in her corsage a large circular ornament of diamonds and emeralds. Twice had Le Pontois taken furtive glances at the stranger whose lined brow was so extraordinarily familiar. It was the face of a deep thinker, a man who had, perhaps, passed through much trouble.
"We have met before?" remarked Paul abruptly. "Yes, Monsieur Le Pontois," replied the man with a grim smile. "On several occasions lately. It has been my duty to keep observation upon your movements acting upon orders from Monsieur the Prefect of Police." And together they entered the dark, deserted station to await the night express for Paris.
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