"Oh, nothing, Monsieur le Secrétaire!" he said.
"Yes, yes; you're not looking your usual self. You're gray in the face.… And the way you're perspiring.…"
Inspector Vérot wiped his forehead and, pulling himself together, said:
"It's just a little tiredness.… I've been overworking myself lately: I was very keen on clearing up a case which Monsieur Desmalions had put in my hands. All the same, I have a funny sort of feeling"
"Will you have a pick-me-up?"
"No, no; I'm more thirsty."
"A glass of water?"
"No, thank you."
"What then?"
"I should like—I should like"
His voice faltered. He wore a troubled look, as if he had suddenly lost his power of getting out another word. But he recovered himself with an effort and asked:
"Isn't Monsieur Desmalions here?"
"No; he won't be back till five, when he has an important meeting."
"Yes … I know … most important. That's what I'm here for. But I should have liked to see him first. I should so much have liked to see him!"
The secretary stared at Vérot and said:
"What a state you're in! Is your message so urgent as all that?"
"It's very urgent, indeed. It has to do with a crime that took place a month ago, to the day. And, above all, it's a matter of preventing two murders which are the outcome of that other crime and which are to be committed
