"Peter, the concierge, is whispering with the others.
That is one of the managers there, out on the pavement, talking to them." Selingman pointed down the road towards Monaco.
"See!" he exclaimed.

"There is a motor-car coming in a hurry.

I fancy that the alarm must have been given." A grey, heavily-built car came along at a great pace and swung round in front of the Hotel de Paris.

The two men stood on the pavement and watched.

A tall, official-looking person, with black, upturned moustache, in somber uniform and a peaked cap, descended.
"The Commissioner of Police," Selingman whispered, "and that is a doctor who has just gone in.