Lechmere had plenty of time before him to think out the problem. It would be utterly useless for him to try and see Annette at any rate for some time to come. There was consolation in the fact, too, that Annette would have no opportunity at present for dealing with the papers. Returned to the hotel, Lechmere found that Maxgregor had succeeded in getting his own way with the queen, who had evidently abandoned the idea of going to Paris. She even seemed quite cheerful and resigned.

It was quite late in the evening before Lechmere received his message from Peretori. It must have been an expensive one, for it was long:—

"Come over by the night boat," it ran, "accident took place half way between Calais and Paris, near a station called Amiens. Drive there from the junction at Poiteux and do not let yourself be seen, as Mazaroff is here. Ask for Pierre Loti's hut and there await developments. Above all things take care not to be seen. And I am on my way Eastward."

The thing was vague and in a way unsatisfactory. There was no news of the king in it, which was bad, as if some tragedy had happened that the sender of the telegram was afraid to put into evidence. And the mention of Mazaroff made matters distinctly worse. That rascal was evidently acting as deputy to the countess, who had been recalled to England by some urgent business. But perhaps, after all, she had not crossed the Channel, perhaps she was satisfied to find that the scheme to wreck the special train was certain to prove successful. At any rate she was back in England and would have to be watched. The only man who could do that was Ronald Hope. Lechmere found him at length at Jessie's lodgings talking over matters with her and Ada.

"I will do anything you like," Hope said cheerfully. "My mind is quite at rest now that Jessie is free. My dear fellow, you managed that matter very cleverly indeed."

"Only a little diplomacy," Lechmere smiled. "After all said and done, Annette told no lie. Most emphatically she never saw Miss Harcourt in the countess's house that night. Keep an eye on that clever lady for me and carefully report all her doings. As for me, I am crossing the Channel to-night and I may be away for a day or two. And don't forget one thing—the papers we are looking for are still in Countess Saens's house."

With this significant message, Lechmere departed. The Channel passage was right enough, but the trouble to get to Poiteux was immense. The local trains were few and the breakdown of the line seemed to have disturbed everything. It was nearly dark the next night before Lechmere reached the next village. There was an hotel of sorts there, and at first Lechmere considered the advisability of seeking rooms there. But the idea of coming face to face with Mazaroff was not to be thought of. A railway porter offered his assistance, and Lechmere gladly availed himself of his help. The accident, so he gathered, had been caused by a defective rail on the track, a sufficiently strange thing, seeing that the line at that point had just been overhauled by the authorities. Lechmere's guide significantly hinted that the police were not quite satisfied with the explanation and that one or two suspicious characters had been arrested.

"Have you any stranger staying here just now?" Lechmere asked.

"But one, sir," the porter proceeded to explain: "a gentleman at the hotel. He came here to see the Duc de Mornay, but he is away from here. So the gentleman is staying in the hotel."

"Fine man with a dark moustache and pointed beard?" Lechmere asked.

The porter intimated that the description was fairly accurate and Lechmere asked no further questions on that head. He knew quite well that Mazaroff was not far off. But what was the enemy doing here after the desired mischief had been accomplished. There was only one more question to ask. What had become of the King of Asturia? The porter put up his hand with a gesture of impatience.

"That is the puzzle," he said. "There were two gentlemen with the king when the accident happened; they are not badly hurt, M'sieu will understand, and they are at two cottages in the village. They are visited from time to time by the gentleman who is stopping at the hotel."

"Spy," Lechmere muttered to himself. "Mazaroff is leaving nothing to chance. As to the king now?"

"As to the king nobody knows anything," the porter resumed. "He simply vanished. There are some who say that he was spirited away by Anarchists, that the whole thing was a vile conspiracy. The other two gentlemen lay stunned on the ground so that they could see nothing of what was going on. And they are just as puzzled and bewildered over the disappearance of the king as anybody else."

Lechmere nodded as if the thing were of the most trivial importance to him, but he was utterly puzzled. What was the motive or the sense in spiriting off the king in this way? If he was dead, then the game of the conspirators would simply be played for without any further efforts of theirs. Had the king contrived to escape unhurt, and had he taken this chance to get away from those whom he virtually regarded as little better than his gaolers? By this time he was probably enjoying himself in Paris, heedless of the trouble that he was giving to others.

Lechmere figured it out that he would have to get to the bottom of this business for himself. He dared not go near either to Maxwell or Alexis for fear of meeting Mazaroff. It was imperative that Mazaroff should not know of his presence in the village.

The only thing to be done now was to settle down in his lodging and keep out of Mazaroff's way. A clean but frugal meal was provided and despatched, for Lechmere was keen set and for the most part he did not care what he ate when on expeditions like these. After the meal was done he sat smoking and thinking over the problem. Suddenly it occurred to him that he had been told by Peretori's cablegram to ask for the hut of Pierre Loti. Pierre Loti, he found, bore anything but a good character. It was a moot point as to how he got his living; he lived in a hut in the woods close by where the accident had happened and he had been first on the spot. All this interested Lechmere and he decided to try and find Loti at once. He had no difficulty in running down his man, who was making hurdles in the wood. He received the advances of the Englishman with evident suspicion.

"It is no use fencing about like this," Lechmere said at length. "I have come all the way from England to see you. I had a telegram asking me to do so. Do you understand?"

The man nodded and blinked slowly. His cunning little eyes were turned on Lechmere's face. He took from his pocket a dirty piece of paper and proceeded to spell out some rude signs there.

"I have a friend," he said, "a gentleman who has been very good to me. He was with me in my hut last night. And before he went away he said that very likely a gentleman would come from England to see me. And he said that the gentleman's name began by a certain letter. Would M'sieu be so good as to suggest what that letter is likely to be?"

Lechmere was on the right track at last and could afford to be patient. He smiled at this caution.

"I should say it would be the letter L," he said, "followed by Lechmere. Is that good enough for you or do you want further proof?"

"That is exactly as it should be," Loti said approvingly. "Lechmere is the name. Now, sir, I was close by when the accident happened yesterday. It was I who helped the wounded people out. The driver and his assistant were killed. One gentleman was unconscious and the other had a little sense left. He asked me to take care of the third gentleman, to get him away in fact and say nothing to anybody till the signal came. Only he wanted my name. Then this gentleman he failed also, and a little time later people came on the scene. I carried away the one gentleman to my hut and said nothing of it to anybody till another gentleman came along. He was the gentleman who was kind to me and told me that a friend of his called Lechmere would come along presently and reward me. I shall have to be rewarded, for I am doing what in the eyes of our law is a crime——"

"You need not worry in the least about your reward," Lechmere said impatiently. "Take me to your hut and let me speak to the person you are hiding there."

"Let him speak to you?" Loti said with widely open eyes. "I do not understand. You do not understand. But come this way; I keep my lips sealed and I say nothing to anybody. It is a dangerous position, but money can accomplish most things. This way, sir; I will see that you are not followed, for there are dogs about with sharp noses. This way."

The hut was reached at length, the door closed cautiously. In a little lean-to shed was a heap of straw, and this straw Loti proceeded to remove with a careful hand.

"Look down," he whispered. "Look down and see if you have ever seen him before."

Lechmere started back surprised and dismayed, almost unnerved for the moment. For the dead white face looking so calmly up at him was that of the ill-fated King of Asturia!