in the detective service of Monaco.

"Then you knew the lady?" Ogier asked of the young man who was naturally
much upset over the startling affair, and the more so because the secret
of his father's mysterious death had been filched from him by the hand
of some unknown assassin.

"No, I did not know her personally," Henfrey replied somewhat lamely. "I
came to call upon her, and she received me."

"Why did you call at this hour? Could you not have called in the
daytime?"

"Mademoiselle was in the Rooms until late," he said.

"Ah! Then you followed her home--eh?"

"Yes," he admitted.

The police officer pursed his lips and raised his eyes significantly at
his colleague.

"And what was actually happening when the shot was fired? Describe it to
me, please," he demanded.

"I was standing just here"--and he crossed the room and stood upon the
spot where he had been--"Mademoiselle was over there beside the window.
I had my back to the window. She was about to tell me something--to
answer a question I had put to her--when someone from outside shot her
through the open glass door."

"And you did not see her assailant?"

"I saw nothing. The shot startled me, and, seeing her staggering,
I rushed to her. In the meantime the assailant--whoever he
was--disappeared!"

The brown-bearded man smiled dubiously. As he stood beneath the electric
light Hugh saw doubt written largely upon his countenance. He instantly
realized that Ogier disbelieved his story.

After all it was a very lame one. He would not fully admit the reason of
his visit.

"But tell me, m'sieur," exclaimed the police officer. "It seems
extraordinary that any person should creep along this veranda." And he
walked out and looked about in the moonlight. "If the culprit wished to
shoot Mademoiselle in secret, then he would surely not have done so in
your presence. He might easily have shot her as she was on her way home.
The road is lonely up here."

"I agree, monsieur," replied the Englishman. "The whole affair is, to
me, a complete mystery. I saw nobody. But it was plain to me that when
I called Mademoiselle was seated out upon the veranda. Look at her
chair--and the cushions! It was very hot and close in the Rooms
to-night, and probably she was enjoying the moonlight before retiring to
bed."

"Quite possibly," he agreed. "But that does not alter the fact that the
assassin ran considerable risk in coming along the veranda in the full
moonlight and f