had to play my part carefully; especially it was essential that I
should behave in public in a manner consistent with my professions.
Accordingly, the next day I went to M. Chaban, first commissary of
police, requesting him to institute enquiries respecting the flight of
Mdlle. X. C. V. I was sure that in this way the real part I had taken in
the matter would be the better concealed; but the commissary, who had the
true spirit of his profession, and had liked me when he first saw me six
years before, began to laugh when he heard what I wanted him to do.

"Do you really want the police to discover," said he, "where the pretty
Englishwoman is to be found?"

"Certainly."

It then struck me that he was trying to make me talk and to catch me
tripping, and I had no doubt of it when I met Farsetti going in as I was
coming out.

Next day I went to acquaint Madame X. C. V. with the steps I had taken,
though as yet my efforts had not been crowned with success.

"I have been more fortunate than you," said she, "and if you will come
with me to the place where my daughter has gone, and will join me in
persuading her to return, all will be well."

"Certainly," said I, "I shall be most happy to accompany you."

Taking me at my word, she put on her cloak, and leaning on my arm walked
along till we came to a coach. She then gave me a slip of paper, begging
me to tell the coachman to drive us to the address thereon.

I was on thorns, and my heart beat fast, for I thought I should have to
read out the address of the convent. I do not know what I should have
done if my fears had been well grounded, but I should certainly not have
gone to the convent. At last I read what was written; it was "Place
Maubert," and I grew calm once more.

I told the coachman to drive us to the Place Maubert. We set off, and in
a short time stopped at the opening of an obscure back street before a
dirty-looking house, which did not give one a high idea of the character
of its occupants. I gave Madame X. C. V. my arm, and she had the
satisfaction of looking into every room in the five floors of the house,
but what she sought for was not there, and I expected to see her
overwhelmed with grief. I was mistaken, however. She looked distressed
but satisfied, and her eyes seemed to ask pardon of me. She had found out
from the coachman, who had taken her daughter on the first stage of her
journey, that she had alighted in front of the house in question, and ha