Truly, the situation was most serious.
Together the two men strolled out into the early morning air and sat upon a seat on the terrace of the Casino watching the sun as it rose over the tideless sea.
For nearly an hour they sat discussing the affair; then they ascended the white, dusty road to the beautiful Villa Amette, the home of the mysterious Mademoiselle.
Old Giulio Cataldi opened the door.
"Alas! m'sieur, Mademoiselle is just the same," he replied in response to Hugh's eager inquiry. "The police have gone, but Doctor Leneveu is still upstairs."
"Have the police searched the garden?" inquired Hugh eagerly.
"Yes, m'sieur. They made a thorough examination, but have discovered no marks of footprints except those of yourself, myself, and a tradesman's lad who brought up a parcel late last night."
"Then they found no weapon?" asked the young Englishman.
"No, m'sieur. There is no clue whatever to the assailant."
"Curious that there should be no footmarks," remarked Brock. "Yet they found yours, Hugh."
"Yes. The man must surely have left some trace outside!"
"One would certainly have thought so," Brock said. "I wonder if we may go into the room where the tragedy happened?" he asked of the servant.
"Certainly, m'sieur," was the courteous reply, and he conducted them both into the apartment wherein Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo had been shot down.
"Did you accompany Mademoiselle when she went to London, Giulio?" asked young Henfrey of the old Italian, after he had described to Brock exactly what had occurred.
"Yes, m'sieur," he replied. "I was at Cromwell Road for a short time. But I do not care for London, so Mademoiselle sent me back here to look after the Villa because old Jean, the concierge, had been taken to the hospital."
"When in London you knew some of Mademoiselle's friends, I suppose?"
"A few--only a few," was the Italian's reply.
"Did you ever know a certain Mr. Benton?"
The old fellow shook his head blankly.
"Not to my knowledge, m'sieur," he replied. "Mademoiselle had really very few friends in London. There was a Mrs. Matthews and her husband, Americans whom she met here in Monte Carlo, and Sir George Cave-Knight, who died a few weeks ago."
"Do you remember an elderly gentleman named Henfrey calling?" asked Hugh.
Old Cataldi reflected for a moment, and then answered: "The name sounds familiar to me, m'sieur, but in what connexion I cannot recollect. That is your name, is it not?" he asked, remembering the card he had taken to his mistress.
"Yes," Hugh replied. "I have reason to believe that my late father was acquainted with your mistress, and that he called upon her in London."