"How could he have got that cab?"

"I've thought a good deal about that. It was mentioned in the papers. I
believe he may have slipped out the front way, called the cab, and then
gone back to get something.

"Perhaps he went back for his clothes but didn't dare to take them."

"And how about the cabman's story of the man who engaged the cab?"

"The cabman's a liar. That's plain enough."

"I'm afraid he is. Now, Mr. Hammond, could either Corbut or this man
Gaspard have got into room B without your knowing it?"

"Easily. Great heavens, I never thought of that! One of them may be the
murderer!"

Gaspard, at these words, turned as white as a sheet.

He was so frightened that his English--which was usually very
fluent--deserted him, and he mumbled protestations of innocence in his
mother tongue.

"Thank you, Mr. Hammond," said Nick, without appearing to notice
Gaspard's distress. "I have no more questions to ask, but I would be
obliged to you if you would wait here a few minutes for me."

Nick went into another room, where he knew that Patsy was waiting.