.

The business smacked of a conjuring trick.

Having lost the terrier in the town, I had been sent to view the
Chateau against my will, there to discover my missing chattel in a
locked chamber upon the second floor.

To add to the confusion of my wits, Susan was talking furiously.

"...I've read of such things. You know. In case of a revolution, for
the king to escape. They say there's one at Buckingham Palace."

"One what?" said I abstractedly.

"Underground passage," said Susan. "Leading out into the open. The
one from Buckingham Palace goes into a house, I suppose it was country
once, and then the ground was built over, or, of course, it might
always have led into the house, and they just had loyal people living
there or someone from the Court, so that----"

"Heaven and earth!" I roared. "The Villa Buichi."

Susan recoiled with a cry.

I caught her white arm.

"Susan," I yelled, "you've got it in one! The last time we saw him was
there. It's a house we saw yesterday. We thought of taking it, but,
as soon as he saw us coming, another chap got in quick."

"What a shame!" said Susan. "If only you'd had it, you'd 've been able
to go and look at the tapestries whenever you---- Oh, whatever's the
matter?"

I suppose my eyes were blazing. I know my brain was.

The murder was out.

"I must see my friend, the Spaniard," I said. "He's made a mistake.
_The biggest receiver in France has not retired_."

Susan stared at me with big eyes.

With a smile, I flung open its door and waved her into the car....

I followed her in.

Then I put my arm round her waist and kissed her pink cheek.

"Now," said I, "you _will_ have something to tell them."

Susan gurgled delightedly.

* * * * *

The French are nothing if not artistic. They are also good showmen.

It was largely due to the interest of Senor Don Fedriani that, five
days later, I had the privilege of sitting for fifty minutes upon an
extremely uncomfortable chair in the Oratory of Jeanne d'Albret, and
listening at intervals, by means of a delicate instrument, to the
biggest receiver in France and his confederates stumbling still more
uncomfortably along a dank and noisome passage towards penal servitude
for life.

Had he known that the Villa Buichi was surrounded, that the caretaker
was already in custody, that a file of soldiers was following a quarter
of a mile in his rear, and that the van which was to take