"You have really been of great service to me, madame," he said. "It was very good of you to come and tell me straightforwardly. Now, let us see if we can trace these notes to the possession of the previous holder."
Leona Lalage intimated that was the only thing she desired for the moment. But at the same time she made it pretty clear to Prout that the thing was impossible. Her keen desire was to show him the impossibility of the proceeding, and induce him to give up any further investigations in that direction.
"You see, I have the good fortune to be exceedingly rich," she said, with her most fascinating smile. "I don't value money as much as I should. To me it is a mere medium for enjoyment. I gamble, and bet, and all that kind of thing, in fact I generally have a large sum of money in paper in the house. I might have got those notes from a betting man at Ascot, or at Goodwood, or even the card table. But at the same time I'll try my best to assist you."
Prout was profuse. He was very anxious over those notes. He had certainly had the good fortune to take into custody one René Lalage, the brother to Leon Lalage, who had been murdered in the Corner House.
"Strange they should be the same name as myself," the Countess said.
"Not in the least," Prout hastened to reply. "I find the name is a very common one at Marseilles, and along the Mediterranean generally."
The Countess smiled. She had risen prepared to take her departure. If she had any knowledge of faces she had made a good impression.
"It seems hardly credible," she said. "I mean the story of the Corner House as told by Dr. Bruce. That Spanish woman, for instance."
Prout shook his head in a non-committal fashion. He had heard some amazing statements made by suspects in his time, statements so wild that they carried guilt on the face of them. And yet he had personally proved many of these statements to be true. The Countess smiled as she turned to the door.
"I am not very easily impressed," she said, "and as to that Spanish woman--eh, Dr. Bruce must have been taking lessons from Mr. Lawrence."
"The woman did exist all the same," Prout said innocently. "In fact, I don't mind admitting that I've got a portrait----"
He paused and looked down. The smile faded from Leona's face.