In his morning suit at his breakfast-table he looked like a prosperous comedian.
He came forward with a smile of welcome, extending both his hands to Mr.Ricardo.
"Ah, my good friend," he said, "it is pleasant to see you.

And Mr.
Wethermill," he exclaimed, holding a hand out to the young inventor.
"You remember me, then ?" said Wethermill gladly.
"It is my profession to remember people," said Hanaud, with a laugh.
"You were at that amusing dinner-party of Mr.Ricardo's in Grosvenor Square." "Monsieur," said Wethermill, "I have come to ask your help." The note of appeal in his voice was loud.

M.Hanaud drew up a chair by the window and motioned to Wethermill to take it.

He pointed to another, with a bow of invitation to Mr.Ricardo.
"Let me hear," he said gravely.
"It is the murder of Mme.

Dauvray," said Wethermill.
Hanaud started.
"And in what way, monsieur," he asked, "are you interested in the murder of Mme.