in a day or
two.'

In half an hour Hugo had ascertained that no person named Callear was
staying at the Hotel Cecil.

He understood now, understood too clearly, the meanings of Ravengar's
strange utterances on the telephone. The man had determined to commit
suicide, and he had chosen a way which was calculated with the most
appalling ingenuity to ruin, if anything would ruin, Hugo's peace of
mind for years to come--perhaps for ever. For the world, Ravengar was
drowned. But Hugo knew that his body was lying in that vault.

'Louis had an accomplice,' Hugo reflected. 'Who can that have been? Who
could have been willing to play so terrible a role?'

CHAPTER XXII

DARCY

That night, when he was just writing out some cheques in aid of
charities conducted by Lady Brice (_nee_ Kentucky-Webster), Simon
entered with a card. The hour was past eleven.

Hugo read on the card, 'Docteur Darcy.'

He had nearly forgotten that he had sent for Darcy; in fact, he was no
longer quite sure why he had sent for him, since he meant, in any case,
to hasten to Belgium at the earliest moment.

'You are exceedingly prompt, doctor,' he said, when Darcy came into the
dome. 'I thank you.'

The cosmopolitan physician appeared to be wearing the same tourist suit
that he had worn on the night of Tudor's death. The sallowness of his
impassive face had increased somewhat, and his long thin hands had their
old lackadaisical air. 'You don't look at all the man for such a part,'
said Hugo in the privacy of his brain, 'but you played your part
devilish well that night, my pale friend. You deceived me perfectly.'

'Prompt?' smiled the doctor, shaking hands, and removing his overcoat
with fatigued gestures.

'Yes; you must have caught the 4 p.m. express, and come via Folkstone
and Boulogne.'

'I did,' said Darcy.

'And yet I expect you didn't get my telegram till after two o'clock.'

'I have received no telegram from you, my dear Mr. Hugo. It had not
arrived when I left.'

'Then your presence here to-night is due to a coincidence merely?'

'Not at all,' said Darcy; 'it is due to an extreme desire on my part to
talk to you.'

'The desire is mutual,' Hugo answered, gently insisting that Darcy
should put away his cigarettes and take a Muria. 'Dare I ask--'

Darcy had become suddenly nervous, and he burst out, interrupting Hugo:

'The suicide of Mr. Ravengar was in this morning's Paris papers. And I
may tell you at once that it's