"My friend," I said, "that Larsan case is wonderful. It is worthy
of you."

He begged me to say no more, and humorously pretended an anxiety
for me should I give way to silly praise of him because of a
personal admiration for his ability.

"I'll come to the point, then," I said, not a little nettled. "I
am still in the dark as to your reason for going to America. When
you left the Glandier you had found out, if I rightly understand,
all about Frederic Larsan; you had discovered the exact way he had
attempted the murder?"

"Quite so. And you," he said, turning the conversation, "did you
suspect nothing?"

"Nothing!"

"It's incredible!"

"I don't see how I could have suspected anything. You took great
pains to conceal your thoughts from me. Had you already suspected
Larsan when you sent for me to bring the revolvers?"

"Yes! I had come to that conclusion through the incident of the
'inexplicable gallery.' Larsan's return to Mademoiselle Stangerson's
room, however, had not then been cleared up by the eye-glasses. My
suspicions were the outcome of my reasoning only; and the idea of
Larsan being the murderer seemed so extraordinary that I resolved to
wait for actual evidence before venturing to act. Nevertheless, the