"
"I thank you, sir," replied M. Pigot, gravely. "Au revoir, monsieur,"
and with a bow to me, he followed Simmonds into the outer room.
Grady sat down and got out a fresh cigar.
"Well, Mr. Lester," he said, as he struck a match, "what do you think
of these Frenchmen, anyway?"
"They're marvellous," I said. "Even yet I can't understand how he
knew so much."
"Maybe he was just guessing at some of it," Grady suggested.
"I thought of that; but I don't believe anybody could guess so
accurately. For instance, how did he know about those letters?"
"Fact is," broke in Grady, "that's the first I'd heard of 'em. What
_is_ that story?"
I told him the story briefly, carefully suppressing everything which
would give him a clue to the identity of the veiled lady.
"There were certain details," I added, "which I supposed were known
to no one except myself and two other persons--and yet M. Pigot knew
them. Then again, how did he know so certainly just how the mechanism
worked? How did he know which roll of cotton contained that Mazarin
diamond? You will remember he told us what was in that roll before he
opened it."
Grady smiled good-naturedly and a little patronisingly.
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