"After I changed back to my ordinary boots, I threw them in the river,
as you told me to."

"They sank?"

"Yes, sir."

"Anything else?"

"Nothing else worth reporting, I think.... Do you recognize this coat
and stick as belonging to Mr Matheson, sir?"

Lars Larssen nodded non-committally, and ordered the young fellow to get
a trunk telephone call through to Sir Francis Letchmere at Monte Carlo.
Dean had already found out that he was staying at the Hotel des
Hespérides.

But when the telephone connexion had been made, it was Olive who
answered from the other end of the wire:--

"This is Mrs Matheson. Who is speaking?"

"Mr Larssen. I want Sir Francis Letchmere."

"He's out just now. Shall I take your message?"

"Have you heard yet from your husband?"

"No. Why?"