“Please, do not be distressed,” said the famous detective pleasantly. “I have already given orders that the inquiries are to be pushed forward in every quarter. The case interests me personally. And,” he added, “I entirely agree with you. There is some very deep-laid plot, otherwise that urgent telegram would never have been forged.”
Geoffrey was now torn between love and duty. From the Prefecture he at once walked to the Place de la Monnaie, and from the central telegraph office despatched a long message to the missing girl’s mother. He urged her to wait in patience, as Sylvia was known to be in Belgium, and all inquiries were being instituted.
Afterwards he lunched at the Taverne Joseph, close to the Bourse, and later was compelled to take train back to Dinant, leaving the further inquiries in the hands of the Brussels police.
That evening, with faint heart, he returned to the wireless office at the aerodrome and tried to continue his work, tuning up the wireless set ready for the official tests. But it was in vain. He was, very naturally, thinking more of Sylvia than of the elaborate and highly-efficient apparatus under his care, notwithstanding the fact that it represented the latest development of the Marconi Company’s system of instant communication, and was, therefore, of special interest.
Next day was Tuesday. At first he resolved not to keep his appointment with Mademoiselle Levie, who was to take him to see Monsieur Marvaut at his country house on the Semois. Yet Marvaut was the director of the civil aviation, and it was his duty to the Company to see him, if only for an hour. He had told Monsieur Guiette this, and promised to be back in Bouvignes for the test next morning, so that he could be rung up from Brussels.
Torn by stress of apprehension he managed to control himself sufficiently to meet Mademoiselle Odille when about seven o’clock in the evening she drove up before the Tête d’Or, in Dinant to keep her appointment. The thin-faced watcher was again driving. Meeting Geoffrey she laughed merrily, and asked:
“Could we have a more glorious evening? It has been perfect ever since we left Brussels.”
“Won’t you come in for a moment, mademoiselle?” Falconer asked.