"But you must have brought him. It is evident. Myself I have shut all the doors. No one has the keys except me. It is impossible."

I pointed to the carved bedstead.

"See for yourself," said I. "He's just jumped down."

The keeper ran to the bed and peered behind the gorgeous parapet. Then he let out a scream of agony.

"Ah, it is true. Ten thousand devils! That so beastly a dog should have soiled Jeanne d'Albret's bed! Observe the nest he has made in her counterpane. _Mon Dieu!_ it is scandalous. _Monsieur_, you will answer for this."

"I shall do nothing of the sort," said I. "But, unless you keep your mouth shut, you will. You shouldn't have let him get in."

I thought the fellow would have choked.

"But it was not I that---- A-a-ah!" he screamed. "See how he approaches the Queen's screen, to destroy it as he has destroyed her bed."

"Nonsense," I said shortly. "He's very struck with the furniture.

That's all. Anybody would be. But how the deuce...."

With tears in his eyes the keeper besought me to remove my dog forthwith.

In the circ.u.mstances, it seemed best to comply, so, wishing very much that n.o.bby could speak for himself, I tied my handkerchief to his collar and, with Susan chattering excitedly and clinging to my arm, followed our gibbering guide to the foot of the great staircase.

"He must have followed him in," cried Susan. "He simply must. I looked at the chimney, but it's stopped up, and the man says there's no other door. And you know he unlocked each one as we came to it this morning."

"But why's he so filthy?" I said. "And how did he fetch up here?

Let's see. He must have come with us as far as Bouzom's. That's only five minutes from here. Then we forgot all about him and left him outside. We were there for ages. I suppose he got fed up with waiting or found a pal or something, and drifted down here. All the same...."

I turned to the custodian and took out a fifty-franc note. "He doesn't usually pay so much for a room, but, as this isn't a hotel and he had Jeanne d'Albret's bed...."

The money pa.s.sed in silence.

I fancy the keeper dared not trust himself to speak.

After all, I was very thankful that n.o.bby was found.

As we pa.s.sed out of the gate, a sudden thought came to me, and I turned back.

"I say," I cried, "when last did you visit that room?"

"The Queen's room, _Monsieur_?"

I nodded.

"Yesterday morning, Monsieur. At nine o'clock."

You could have knocked me down.

I walked towards the car like a man in a dream.

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 pa.s.sage," 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 pa.s.sage 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 him to prison was waiting in the Chateau's courtyard, my gentleman, who had 'lived soft,' could not have been more outspoken about the condition of his path.

Not until he had quite finished and had inquired in a blasphemous whisper if all were present, was the strip of magnesium ignited and the photograph made....