ager continued. "The disappearance of
the young lady was a source of much trouble to me, and I made all
possible inquiries within the hotel. I found that on the day of her
disappearance Mademoiselle had been told by one of the attendants in
the barber's shop, who had waited upon her brother on the night of his
arrival, that he--Monsieur Guy--had asked for the name of some cafes for
supper, and that he had recommended Cafe Montmartre. Mademoiselle
appears to have decided to go there herself to make inquiries. We have
no doubt that when she left the hotel on the night of her disappearance
it was to there that she went."

"You have told the police this?"

"Yes, I have told them," the manager answered dryly. "Here is their
latest report, if you care to see it."

Duncombe took the little slip of paper and read it hastily.

"Disappearance of Mademoiselle Poynton, from England.--We
regret to state no trace has been discovered of the missing
young lady.

"(Signed) JULES LEGARDE, Superintendent."

"That was only issued a few hours ago," the manager said.

"And I thought," Duncombe said bitterly, "that the French police were
the best in the world!"

The manager said nothing. Duncombe rose from his chair.

"I shall go myself to the Cafe Montmartre," he said. The manager bowed.

"I shall be glad," he said, "to divest myself of any further
responsibility in this matter. It has been a source of much anxiety to
the directors as well as myself."

Duncombe walked out of the room, and putting on his coat again called
for a _petite voiture_. He gave the man the address in the Rue St.
Honore and was driven to a block of flats there over some shops.

"Is Monsieur Spencer in?" he asked the concierge. He was directed to the
first floor. An English man-servant admitted him, and a few moments
later he was shaking hands with a man who was seated before a table
covered with loose sheets of paper.

"Duncombe, by all that's wonderful!" he exclaimed, holding out his hand.
"Why, I thought that you had shaken the dust of the city from your feet
forever, and turned country squire. Sit down! What will you have?"

"First of all, am I disturbing you?"

Spencer shook his head.

"I've no Press work to-night," he answered. "I've a clear hour to give
you at any rate. When did you come?"

"Two-twenty from Charing Cross," Duncombe answered. "I can't tell you
how thankful I am to find you in, Spencer. I'm over on a very