I went up at once.

I found the Baron walking up and down his bedroom in a pitiable state of distress, squeezing his hands together.

He assured me he had the fullest confidence in our police and in my abilities, but he had there a man just come over from Paris whose information could be trusted implicity.

He wanted me to hear what that man had to say.

He took me at once into a dressing-room next door, where I saw a big fellow in a heavy overcoat sitting all alone on a chair, and holding his hat and stick in one hand.
The Baron said to him in French 'Speak, my friend.' The light in that room was not very good.