er was bent upon
suicide and manslaughter.

I visited four places of worship that afternoon and two more that
evening. Those in charge--for I attended no services--knew nothing of
Mademoiselle Junotte or Juno. I retired at ten, somewhat discouraged,
but stubbornly determined to keep on, for my three days at least.

The next morning I consulted Baedeker again, this time for the list of
hotels, a list which I found quite as lengthy as that of the churches.
Then I once more sought the help of Monsieur Louis. Could he tell me a
few of the hotels where English visitors were most likely to stay.

He could do more than that, apparently. Would I be so good as to inform
him if the lady or gentleman--being Parisian he put the lady first--whom
I wished to find had recently arrived in Paris. I told him that the
gentleman had arrived the same evening as I. Whereupon he produced
a list of guests at all the prominent hotels. Herbert Bayliss was
registered at the Continental.

To the Continental I went and made inquiries of the concierge there.
Mr. Bayliss was there, he was in his room, so the concierge believed. He
would be pleased to ascertain. Would I give my name? I declined to give
the name, saying that I did not wish to disturb Mr. Bayliss. If he was
in his room I would wait until he came down. He was in his room, had not
yet breakfasted, although it was nearly ten in the forenoon. I sat down
in a chair from which I could command a good view of the elevators, and
waited.

The concierge strolled over and chatted. Was I a friend of Mr. Bayliss?
Ah, a charming young gentleman, was he not. This was not his first visit
to Paris, no indeed; he came frequently--though not as frequently of
late--and he invariably stayed at the Continental. He had been out late
the evening before, which doubtless explained his non-appearance. Ah,
he was breakfasting now; had ordered his "cafe complete." Doubtless he
would be down very soon? Would I wish to send up my name now?

Again I declined, to the polite astonishment of the concierge, who
evidently considered me a queer sort of a friend. He was called to his
desk by a guest, who wished to ask questions, of course, and I waited
where I was. At a quarter to eleven Herbert Bayliss emerged from the
elevator.

His appearance almost shocked me. Out late the night before! He looked
as if he had been out all night for many nights. He was pale and solemn.
I stepped forward to greet him and the start h