“Bien, you shall know everything,” Villon continued with sudden doleful helplessness. “Mercier had been in America. He had smuggled six uncut diamonds of great value past the English authorities; he arrived at Southampton two weeks ago on the liner Majestic. Scotland Yard lost track of him, but we were warned to watch the channel ports. He had a confederate. It is not known where this confederate is now; it is not known whether the confederate is man or woman. We do not even know whether Mercier was carrying the diamonds, or whether he disposed of them in England, but this latter is considered unlikely. They were not on his person when he was killed, nor were they in his hand-luggage. And you should know this. The tide of diamond-smuggling has turned to Europe now; the United States has become so rigorous that it is impossible for even the cleverest of them—like Mercier—to do it safely. I did not set the nets. It will cost me my position.”
Slowly Villon turned round.
“A few things only are to be known as possible clues. The compartment has been tested for finger-prints, both on the glass of doors and windows, and the woodwork near the windows. The only finger-prints are those of Mercier. His luggage, consisting of a small portmanteau, was found rifled and scattered near the station; it had not been carried into the train. Do you make anything of that? Well, I will go on. Sir John, you were the first to examine Mercier after the murder. Did he wear a beard?”
“Why, yes—a brown beard. It was—”
Saulomon abruptly lifted his head.
“But that is—are you sure, monsieur?” he demanded. “I recall distinctly that the man in compartment four had no beard when I took his ticket.”
“Exactly!” Villon cried. “And he had no beard when
