I was still standing by the window, holding the photograph in my hand,
and gazing upon it in wonder, when Dick Deane was shown in.
"What's the matter, old chap? Are you the man in possession here?" he
asked breezily, gripping me by the hand.
He was a fair, merry-faced fellow of thirty-five, rather good-looking,
smartly dressed in black frock-coat of professional cut, and wearing a
pair of gold-rimmed pince-nez. He had been born in Paris, and had spent
the greater part of his life there, except during the years when he was
at school with me before going to Edinburgh, where he took his degree.
Then he had returned to Paris, taken his French degree, and had soon
risen to be one of the fashionable doctors in the French capital. He
was an especial favourite in the salons, and, like every good-looking
doctor, a favourite with the ladies.
"I'm not in possession," I answered. "A very serious affair has
happened here, and we want your assistance."
In an instant he became grave, for I suppose my tone showed him that I
was in no humour for joking.
"What's the nature of the affair?" he asked.
"Death," I replied seriously. "A lady here--a friend of mine--has died
mysteriously."
"A mystery--eh?" he exclaimed, instantly interested. "Tell me about
it."
"This place," I replied, "belongs to the Countess de Foville, a lady
whom I knew well when I was at the Brussels Embassy, and it is her
daughter Yolande who has been found dead in this room this evening."
"Yolande de Foville!" he repeated, with knit brows. "She was a friend
of yours once, if I mistake not?" he added, looking me straight in the
face.
"Yes, Dick, she was," I responded. "I told you of her long ago."
"You loved her once?"
"Yes," I answered with difficulty, "I loved her once."
"And how did the unfortunate affair occur?" he asked, folding his arms
and leaning back against a chair. "Tell me the whole story."
"I called here this afternoon, and spent half an hour or so with her," I
said. "Then I left and returned straight to the Embassy--"
"You left her here?" he inquired, interrupting. "Yes, in this very
room. But it seems that a quarter of an hour later one of the servants
entered and discovered her lying upon the door, dead."
"Curious!" he ejaculated. "Has a medical man seen her?"
"No. The Countess sent for me as being one of her daughter's most
intimate friends, and I, in turn, sent for you."
"Where is the poor young lady?"
"In her room at the end of the corridor," I answered hoarsely.
"Is there any suspicion of murder?"
"Apparently none whatever. She had no visitor after I left."
"And no suspicion of suicide?" he asked, with a sharp look. "Did you
part friends?"
"Perfectly so," I responded. "As to suicide, she had no reason, as far
as anyone knows, to make an attempt upon her life."
He gave vent to an expression which sounded to me much like a grunt of
dissatisfaction.
"Now, be perfectly frank with me, Gerald," he said, suddenly turning to
me and placing his hand upon my shoulder. "You loved her very dearly
once--was that not so?"