We instructed
the police that the true culprit was Medhurst, whom they had seen
with their own eyes, and whom we urged them to pursue with all
expedition. Meanwhile, Charles and I, accompanied by the Colonel
and the attache--"to see the fun out," as they said--called at the
Bank of France for the purpose of stopping the notes immediately. It
was too late, however. They had been presented at once, and cashed
in gold, by a pleasant little lady in an American costume, who was
afterwards identified by the hotel-keeper (from our description) as
his lodger, Mme. Picardet. It was clear she had taken rooms in the
same hotel, to be near the Indian Colonel; and it was _she_ who had
received and sent the letters. As for our foe, he had vanished into
space, as always.
Two days later we received the usual insulting communication on a
sheet of Charles's own dainty note. Last time he wrote it was on
Craig-Ellachie paper: this time, like the wanton lapwing, he had got
himself another crest.
"MOST PERSPICACIOUS OF MILLIONAIRES!--Said I not well, as
Medhurst, that you must distrust everybody? And the one man
you never dreamt of distrusting was--Medhurst. Yet see how
truthful I was! I told you I knew where Colonel Clay was
living--and I _did_ know, exactly. I promised to take you to
Colonel Clay's rooms, and to get him arrested for you--and
I kept my promise.
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