If ever there was a plucky chap, he's one.

Anyhow, apparently, he wanted to get hold of a man in Paris he couldn't find, for he called last evening on a detective named Girard, a rather well-known fellow in his line, I believe.

It almost looks as if Dundas had made an enemy of him, for he's been giving evidence pretty freely to the police--lost no time about it, anyhow.

Girard says he was following up the scent, tracking down the person he'd been hired by Dundas to hunt for, and had at last come to the house where he was lodging, when there he found Dundas himself, ransacking the room, covered with blood, and the chap who was wanted, lying dead on the floor, his body hardly cold." "What time was all that ?" enquired Lisa sharply.

It was the first question she had asked.
"Between midnight and one o'clock, I think the papers said," answered Lord Bob.
"Well, of course it's all nonsense," exclaimed Aunt Lil impatiently.
"French people are so sensational, and they jump at conclusions so.