pared to have my presence smashed in on you in such an abrupt fashion, but I had no choice.” He smiled suddenly, and exhibited the gag he still held. “Chiefly, my apologies go to M. Villon. But since I am here, I must make my arrest before I should have chosen to do so.”
Mr. Depping had the monocle in his eye, and was frankly staring. Sir John’s face wore a curious smile. Saulomon was casually searching after cigarettes. Miss Mertz still had her arm extended in the dramatic gesture; she had not straightened the hat over her eye.
“Bencolin,” cried Villon, “you were the man in the corridor, then?”
“Yes. That is why I owe you so many apologies. Won’t you sit down, Miss Mertz? I have much to explain.
“When I arranged this elaborate bit of deception,” he went on, “I did not know that I should have to cope with murder. My intent was to trap the accomplice of the man Mercier. We of the police cannot be content with knowing the identity of our guilty men. Unlike the detectives in fiction, we must have proof. My friends, two months ago I went to America to assist in running down a league of smugglers—that story does not belong here. Four of them are now in the hands of the New York police. The fifth, Mercier, escaped us, and came to England. The sixth and last is here, in this room.
“Please do not interrupt. I knew who he was, [ knew that Mercier would meet him, and Mercier walked into my trap. For Mercier sold in England the diamonds he had brought with him from the States. I know to whom he sold them, and I knew that when Mercier came to France and divided his gains with his last confederate, we should be able to arrest that confederate. For Mercier carried marked money.
