These are his papers, I believe,' and he handed them to his cousin.
'Well, I'm glad the notes are safe, anyhow,' Charles murmured, in a tone of relief, beginning to smell a rat 'Will you kindly return them to me?'
The attaché turned out the contents of the envelope. They proved to be prospectuses of bubble companies of the moment, of no importance.
'Medhurst must have put them there,' I cried, 'and decamped with the cash.'
Charles gave a groan of horror. 'And Medhurst is Colonel Clay!' he exclaimed, clapping his hand to his forehead.
'I beg your pardon, sir,' the Colonel interposed. 'I have but one personality, and no aliases.'
It took quite half an hour to explain this imbroglio. But as soon as all was explained, in French and English, to the satisfaction of ourselves and the juge d'instruction, the real Colonel shook hands with us in a most forgiving way, and informed us that he had more than once wondered, when he gave his name at shops in Paris, why it was often received with such grave suspicion. 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 attaché—'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
