"What can it mean?" he whispered. "What do you suppose has happened?"
"I cannot imagine. My brain is in a whirl."
"If they have not got the pocket-book," Bellamy muttered, "it must have gone with Von Behrling to the Mortuary. If so, there is a chance. Louise, say nothing; leave this to me."
"As you will," she assented. "I have no wish to interfere. I only hope that he does not ask me any questions."
They came once more into the middle of the room, and the Baron turned to meet them.
"You must forgive Mademoiselle," said Bellamy, "if she is a little upset this morning. She knows, of course, as I know and you know, that Von Behrling was playing a desperate game, and that he carried his life in his hands. Yet his death has been a shock--has been a shock, I may say, to both of us. From your point of view," Bellamy went on, "it was doubtless deserved, but--"
"What, in God's name, is this that you say?" the Baron interrupted. "I do not understand at all! You speak of Von Behrling's death! What do you mean?"
Bellamy looked at him as one who listens to strange words.
"Baron," he said, "between us who know so much there is surely no need for you to play a part. Von Behrling knew that you were watching him. Your spies were shadowing him as they have done me. He knew that he was running terrible risks. He was not unprepared and he has paid. It is not for us--"
"Now, in God's name, tell me the truth!" Baron de Streuss interrupted once more. "What is it that you are saying about Von Behrling's death?"
Bellamy drew a little breath between his teeth. He leaned forward with his hands resting upon the table.
"Do you mean to say that you do not know?"
"Upon my soul, no!" replied the Baron.
Bellamy threw open the newspaper before him.
"Von Behrling was murdered last night, ten minutes after our interview."