The man told her the hotel was at the very top of the town, and the way was steep.

“But madame can go up in the omnibus of the hotel,” he suggested.  Madame, however, was in too much of a hurry.  The omnibus would have to wait for luggage.  She hailed a closed cab and drove off inside it.

“Now, if we go back in the car, we shall be all ready for her when she arrives,” said Hanaud.

They passed the cab, indeed, a few yards up the steep hill which leads from the station.  The cab was moving at a walk.

“She looks honest,” said Hanaud, with a sigh of relief.  “She is some good bourgeoise anxious to earn four thousand francs.”

They reached the hotel in a few minutes.

“We may need your car again the moment Marthe Gobin has gone,” said Hanaud.

“It shall wait here,” said Ricardo.

“No,” said Hanaud; “let it wait in the little street at the back of my hotel.  It will not be so noticeable there.  You have petrol for a long journey?”

Ricardo gave the order quietly to his chauffeur, and followed Hanaud into the hotel.  Through a glass window they could see Wethermill smoking a cigar over his coffee.

“He looks as if he had not slept,” said Ricardo.

Hanaud nodded sympathetically, and beckoned Ricardo past the window.

“But we are nearing the end.  These two days have been for him days of great trouble; one can see that very clearly.  And he has done nothing to embarrass us.  Men in distress are apt to be a nuisance.  I am grateful to M. Wethermill.  But we are nearing the end.  Who knows?  Within an hour or two we may have news for him.”

He spoke with great feeling, and the two men ascended the stairs to Ricardo’s rooms.  For the second time that day Hanaud’s professional calm deserted him.  The window overlooked the main entrance to the hotel.  Hanaud arranged the room, and, even while he arranged it, ran every other second and leaned from the window to watch for the coming of the cab.

“Put the bank-notes upon the table,” he said hurriedly.  “They will persuade her to tell us all that she has to tell.  Yes, that will do.  She is not in sight yet?  No.”

“She could not be.  It is a long way from the station,” said Ricardo, “and the whole distance is uphill.”

“Yes, that is true,” Hanaud replied.  “We will not embarrass her by sitting round the table like a tribunal.  You will sit in that arm-chair.”

Ricardo took his seat, crossed his knees, and joined the tips of his fingers.

“So! not too judicial!” said Hanaud; “I will sit here at the table.  Whatever you do, do not frighten her.”  Hanaud sat down in the chair which he had placed for himself.  “Marthe Gobin shall sit opposite, with the light upon her face.  So!” And, springing up, he arranged a chair for her.  “Whatever you do, do not frighten her,” he repeated.  “I am nervous.  So much depends upon this interview.”  And in a second he was back at the window.