"Have you told anyone of them?" asked Wedgwood.
"Mr. Levigne. He asked me questions about them, but I couldn't remember anything. They were papers that my mother kept, and, of course, when she died, I got them."
"You don't know where Mr. Levigne is this morning, I suppose?" enquired Wedgwood.
"No—I don't know anything about it. I've come here from Brighton—Miss Monniment and I have been there for some days. Mr. Levigne was down there a few days ago, and he told me he was going to Derbyshire again, but———"
At that moment Wedgwood saw a clerk glide up to Curtoise's side and hand him a telegram; a second or two later Curtoise motioned the detective to join him. He thrust the telegram into his hand.
"Look at that!" he whispered. "Queer!" Wedgwood read the message rapidly.
"Mr. Levigne was here yesterday. Left five o'clock in afternoon with Mrs. Clagne. They were expected back at seven, but never returned. If you are Mr. Levigne's solicitors, please come. There is something wrong here.
