d I spelt it as the detective carefully wrote down the
name.

"He will not be difficult to find if he is still in Brussels," declared
the inspector. "We had an inquiry from Scotland Yard asking if we had any
report concerning Marie Bracq only this morning," he added.

"It was sent to you by my friend, Inspector Edwards, and whom I am
assisting in this inquiry," I explained.

"You said that Marie Bracq was a friend of a lady friend of yours,
M'sieur Royle," continued the _Chef du Surete_. "Will you do us the
favour and tell us all you know concerning the tragedy--how the young
lady lost her life?"

"Ah! m'sieur," I replied, "I fear I cannot do that. How she was killed is
still a mystery. Only within the past few hours have I been able to
establish the dead girl's identity, and only then after narrowly escaping
falling the victim of a most dastardly plot."

"Perhaps you will be good enough to make a statement of all you know,
M'sieur Royle," urged the grey-haired little man; "and if we can be of
any service in bringing the culprit to justice, you may rely upon us."

"But first, m'sieur, allow me to put observation upon the Poste
Restante?" asked Fremy, rising and going to the telephone, where he got
on to one of his subordinates, and gave him instructions in Flemish, a
language I do not understand.

Then, when he returned to his chair, I began to briefly relate what I
knew concerning Sir Digby, and what had occurred, as far as I knew, on
that fatal night of the sixth of January.

I, of course, made no mention of the black suspicion cast upon the woman
I loved, nor of the delivery of Digby's letter, my meeting with the woman
Petre and its exciting results.

Yet had I not met that woman I should still have been in ignorance of the
identity of the dead girl, and, besides, I would not have met the
sallow-faced Ali, or been aware of his methods--those methods so
strangely similar to that adopted when Sir Digby Kemsley lost his life in
Peru.

The two police functionaries listened very attentively to my story
without uttering a word.

I had spoken of the woman Petre as being an accomplice of the man who was
a fugitive, whereupon Fremy asked:

"Do you suppose that the woman is with him?"

"She has, I believe, left England, and, therefore, in all probability, is
with him."

"Are there any others of the gang--for there is, of course, a gang? Such
people never act singly."

"Two other men, as far as I know. One,