"I am beginning to follow you," Duncan said thoughtfully. "Now what about Madame de Melbain?"
"I know absolutely nothing of her," Wrayson answered. "I found out where the young lady was from the Baroness de Sturm, with whom she was living in London, and I came over to warn her."
"The young lady was living with the Baroness de Sturm?" Duncan repeated. "Is she, then, an orphan?"
"No!" Wrayson answered. "She is, for some reason—I do not know why—estranged from her family. Now the question arises, has this fellow here come over to track her down? Is he an English detective?"
Duncan turned deliberately round and stared at the person whom they were discussing.
"I should doubt it very much," he answered. "For my part, I don't believe for a moment that he is an Englishman at all."
"I am very glad to hear you say so," Wrayson declared. "But the question is, if he is not on this business, what the devil is he doing here?"
"Have you the entrée to the château?" Duncan asked abruptly.
"I am invited to dine there this evening," Wrayson answered.
"Then, if I were you," Duncan said, "I should make a point of ascertaining, if you can, the personality of this Madame de Melbain."
Wrayson nodded.
"I shall see her, of course," he said, "and I will do so."
"My own idea," Duncan said deliberately, "is that it is in connection with her presence here that the landlord of the inn and the villagers have received these
