Lemoine smiled, and something in his smile seemed to attract Anthony’s attention. He sat up and stubbed out his cigarette.

“You saw that note I wrote just now?” said the French detective. “It was to my people at the inn. Yesterday I received from France the fingerprints and the Bertillon measurements of King Victor⁠—the so-called Captain O’Neill. I have asked for them to be sent up to me here. In a few minutes we shall know whether you are the man!”

Anthony stared steadily at him. Then a little smile crept over his face.

“You’re really rather clever, Lemoine. I never thought of that. The documents will arrive, you will induce me to dip my fingers in the ink, or something equally unpleasant, you will measure my ears and look for my distinguishing marks. And if they agree⁠—”

“Well,” said Lemoine, “if they agree⁠—eh?”