"Never, until to-night, m'sieur," was the reply. "He called about twenty minutes after Mademoiselle's return from the Rooms."
"Has Mademoiselle quarrelled with anybody of late?"
"Not to my knowledge, m'sieur. She is of a very quiet and even disposition."
"Is there anyone you know who might possess a motive to shoot her?" asked Ogier. "The crime has not been committed with a motive of robbery, but either out of jealousy or revenge."
"I know of nobody," declared the highly respectable Italian, whose moustache was tinged with grey. He shrugged his shoulders and showed his palms as he spoke.
"Mademoiselle arrived here two months ago, I believe?" queried the police official.
"Yes, m'sieur. She spent the autumn in Paris, and during the summer she was at Deauville. She also went to London for a brief time, I believe."
"Did she ever live in London?" asked Hugh eagerly, interrupting Ogier's interrogation.
"Yes--once. She had a furnished house on the Cromwell Road for about six months."
"How long ago?" asked Henfrey.
"Please allow me to make my inquiries, monsieur!" exclaimed the detective angrily.
"But the question I ask is of greatest importance to me in my own inquiries," Hugh persisted.
"I am here to discover the identity of Mademoiselle's assailant," Ogier asserted. "And I will not brook your interference."
"Mademoiselle has been shot, and it is for you to discover who fired at her," snapped the young Englishman. "I consider that I have just as much right to put a question to this man as you have, that is"--he added with sarcasm--"that is, of course, if you don't suspect him of shooting his mistress."
"Well, I certainly do not suspect that," the Frenchman said. "But, to tell you candidly, your story of the affair strikes me as a very improbable one."
"Ah!" laughed Hugh, "I thought so! You suspect me--eh? Very well. Where is the weapon?"
"Perhaps you have hidden it," suggested the other meaningly. "We shall, no doubt, find it somewhere."
"I hope you will, and that will lead to the arrest of the guilty person," Hugh laughed. Then he was about to put further questions to the man Cataldi when Doctor Leneveu entered the room.
"How is she?" demanded Hugh breathlessly.
The countenance of the fussy little doctor fell.
"Monsieur," he said in a low earnest voice, "I much fear that Mademoiselle will not recover. My colleague Duponteil concurs with that view. We have done our best, but neither of us entertain any hope that she will live!" Then turning to Ogier, the doctor exclaimed: "This is an amazing affair--especially in face of what is whispered concerning the unfortunate lady. What do you make of it?"