“A great delight is always more or less of a surprise in this work-a-day world,” he gallantly replied.

“But you can guess what has brought me?”

“Would that I could think it was only to give me a box at the theatre this evening.”

“It is partly that,” I laughed.  “Partly for the pleasure of seeing you, of course.  And partly—­you know already, since you know everything, that I am a friend of Mr. Dundas, the young Englishman accused of a murder which he could not possibly have committed.”

“Could not possibly have committed?  Is that merely your opinion as a loyal friend, or have you come to make a communication to me?”

“For that—­and to offer you the stage-box for to-night.”

“A thousand thanks for the box.  As for the communication—­”

“It’s this.  Mr. Dundas was in my house at the time when, according to the doctors’ statements, the murder must have been committed.  Oh, it’s a hard thing for me to come and tell you this!” I went on hastily.  “Not that I’m ashamed to have received a call from him at that hour, as it was necessary to see him then, or not at all.  He meant to leave Paris early in the morning.  But—­because I’m engaged to be married to—­perhaps you know that, though, among other things?”

“I’ve heard—­a rumour.  I didn’t know that it amounted to an engagement.  Monsieur du Laurier is to be a thousand times congratulated.”

“I love him dearly,” I said simply.  And, not because I am an actress, but because I am a a woman and had suffered all that I could bear, tears rose to my eyes.  “I am true to him, and always have been.  But—­he is horribly jealous.  I can’t explain Mr. Dundas’ night visit in a way to satisfy him.  If Raoul finds out that an Englishman—­well-known, but of whom I never spoke—­was at my house after midnight, he will believe I have deceived him.  Oh, Monsieur, if you would help me to keep this secret I am telling you so frankly!”

“Keep the secret, yet use it to free the Englishman?” asked the Chief of Police gravely.

“Yes, I ask no less of you; I beg, I implore you.  It would kill me to break with Raoul du Laurier.”

“Dear Mademoiselle,” said the good and gallant man, “trust me to do the best I can for you.” (I could see that my tears had moved him.) “A grief to you would be a blow to Paris.  Yet—­well, as you have been frank, I owe it to you to be equally so on my side.  I should before this have sent—­quite privately and in a friendly way, to question you about this Mr. Dundas, who passed under another name at the hotel where you called upon him; but I received a request from a very high quarter to wait before communicating with you.  Now, as you have come to me, I suppose I may speak.”

“Ask me any questions you choose,” I said, “and I’ll answer them.”

“Then, to begin with, since you are engaged to Monsieur du Laurier, how do you explain the statement you made at the hotel, concerning Mr. Dundas?”