But--_que diable vas-tu faire dans
cette galere?_ You are the best friend in the world, and whenever I am
in trouble--and who knows? who knows? 'Man is born unto trouble, as the
sparks fly upward'--I may ask of you both your friendship and your
skill. One thing I ask of you here: don't speak of me as you see me now,
thus miserably moved, to any one! Now I must go. Good-bye." And before
Lefevre could find another word, Julius had opened the door and was
gone.
"If it moves him like that," said the doctor to himself, through his
bewilderment, "there must be something worse in it--God forgive me for
thinking so!--than I have ever imagined."
Chapter VII.
Contains a Love Interlude.
Next day Lefevre learned that the police had been again baffled in their
part of the inquiry. The detective had contrived to trace his
man--though not till the morning after the event--to the St Pancras
Hotel, where he had dined in private, and gone to bed early, and whence
he had departed on foot before any one was astir, to catch, it was
surmised, the first train.
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