"She was clever enough to get rid of the letter in the cab, and to give
them the plausible story that it was locked in the hotel safe. And the
hotel safe was the reasonable place for her to leave the letter until
she had seen the Ambassador, and someone from the Embassy could return
with her and get the letter."

"Granted--if Mrs. Clephane were a wise woman and in the service. She
isn't wise and she isn't in the service; and both these facts are so
apparent that he who runs may read. She played the Buissards for fools
and won. If they had exercised the intelligence of an infant, they'd
have known that she had the letter with her when she left the hotel. You
got a glimmer of light when you thought of the cab--and Mrs. Clephane
told you that Mr. Harleston had stopped and looked at the sleeping
horse and then started him toward Dupont Circle. You came to me to
report--and I, knowing Harleston, solved the remainder of the mystery.
But with Harleston's entry the affair assumed quite a different aspect;
and it is no reflection on you, Marston, that your expedition to his
apartment didn't succeed; though somewhat later Crenshaw did act as a
semi-reasonable man, and secured the letter--only to foozle again like
an imbecile. The play in the hotel last night, as schemed by us, should
have gone through and eliminated Clephane and Harleston for a time; but
Harleston upset things by his quick action and sense of
danger--moreover, he guessed as to Clephane, for the management got wise
and made a search, and the dear lady found Harleston and me in Peacock
Alley--and she pre-empted him."

Marston blinked and said nothing.

"Why don't you say something?" she asked sharply.