through Lonrai and Plélan."
"Is it known what business took the confidential valet of Madame la Marquise de Plélan on that lonely road in the middle of the night?"
"It has not been definitely established," here broke in M. le Procureur curtly, "that the murder was committed in the middle of the night."
"I thought----"
"The body was found in the early morning," continued M. de Saint-Tropèze with an air of cold condescension; "the man had been dead some hours--the leech has not pronounced how many. Maxence had no doubt many friends or relations in Alençon: it is presumed that he spent the afternoon in the city and was on his way back to Plélan in the evening when he was waylaid and murdered."
"That presumption is wrong," said the Man in Grey quietly.
"Wrong?" retorted M. le Procureur frigidly. "What do you mean?"
"I was walking home from Plélan towards Alençon in the small hours of the morning. There was no dead body lying in the road then."
"The body lay by the roadside, half in the ditch," said M. le Procureur dryly, "you may have missed seeing it.""Possibly," rejoined the Man in Grey equally dryly, "but unlikely." "Were you looking out for it then?" riposted the Procureur. But no sooner were the words out of his mouth than he realised his mistake. The Man in Grey made no reply; he literally appeared to withdraw himself into an invisible shell, to efface himself yet further within a colourless atmosphere, out of which it was obviously unwise to try to drag him. M. le Procureur pressed his thin lips together, impatient with himself at an unnecessary loss of dignity. As usual M. le préfet was ready to throw himself into the breach. "I am sure," he said with his usual volubility, "that we are wasting Monsieur le Procureur's valuable time now. I can assure you, Monsieur--er--Fernand, that our chief commissary of police can give you all the details of the crime--if, indeed, they interest you. Shall we go now?--that is," he added, with that same feeling of hesitation which overcame him every time he encountered the secret agent's calm, inquiring look, "that is--er--unless there's anything else you wish to ask of Monsieur le Procureur." "I wish to know with regard to the murder, what was the cause of death," said the Man in Grey quietly. "A pistol shot, sir," replied M. de Saint-Tropèze coldly, "right between the shoulder blades, delivered at short range apparently, seeing that the man's coat was charred and blackened with powder. The leech avers that he must have fallen instantly." "Shot between the shoulders, and yet found lying on his back," murmured the Man in Grey. "And was nothing at all found upon the body that would give a clue to the motive of the crime?" "Nothing, my dear sir," broke in the préfet glibly, "nothing at all. In his 

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