of New York City, who took it this afternoon about five
o'clock. They had made no reservation for it."

"Now as to their baggage."

The manager bowed and went out--to return almost instantly, a puzzled
expression on his face.

"Two new and cheap suit cases, each containing a couple of bricks and
some waste paper," he reported.

"Yes," nodded Harleston, "I thought as much. Mr. Banks, you will confer
a favour on me, and possibly on the government, if you will be good
enough to let this affair pass unnoticed, at least for the time. I'll
pay for the broken table and its contents, and a proper charge for the
rooms for the few hours they've been occupied. I overturned the table.
As for the rest--how I came to be here, and what became of the
occupants, and why the furniture was smashed, and why I have a slight
contusion in my cheek, and anything else occurring to the management as
requiring explanation, just forget it, please."

"Certainly, sir."

"Very good!" said Harleston. "Now wait one moment."

He went to the telephone and asked for Mrs. Clephane's apartment.

Her maid answered--with the information that Mrs. Clephane had been out
since five o'clock and had not yet returned.

Harleston thanked her, hung up the receiver, and turned to Banks.

"I have reason to believe that Mrs. Clephane, who is a guest of the
hotel, has disappeared. I was talking to her in the red-room at about
6:30, when I was called to the telephone. On my return, after a brief
absence, she was gone, and a frequent and thorough search on the first
floor did not disclose her. She was to have dined with me at
seven-thirty. She did not keep the engagement. I dined alone, and had
just begun the meal when a letter was handed to me asking that I dine
with her in her apartment, No. 972. I came here at once--and was held up
by two men and a woman, who sought to obtain something that they
imagined was in my possession. It wasn't, however, and we fought; and I
raised sufficient disturbance to bring you. You see, I have told you
something of the affair. The note was a forgery. This isn't Mrs.
Clephane's apartment, and her maid has just told me that her mistress
has not been in her apartment since five o'clock--which was the time she
met me. I am persuaded that she is a prisoner, and likely in this
hotel--held so to prevent her disclosing a certain matter to a certain
high official. What I want is for you to make every effort to determine
whether she is