en. No, Mademoiselle had not gone
alone. A young gentleman, a young English gentleman had gone with her,
or, at least, had brought the cab in which she went and had driven
off in it with her. A young English gentleman with a yellow mustache.
Perhaps I knew him.

I recognized the description. She had left the house with Herbert
Bayliss. What did that mean? Had she said yes to him? Were they married?
I dreaded to know, but know I must.

And, as the one possible chance of settling the question, I bade my cab
driver take me to the Hotel Continental. There, at the desk, I asked if
Doctor Bayliss was still in the hotel. They said he was. I think I must
have appeared strange or the gasp of relief with which I received the
news was audible, for the concierge asked me if I was ill. I said no,
and then he told me that Bayliss was planning to leave the next day, but
was just then in his room. Did I wish to see him? I said I did and gave
them my card.

He came down soon afterward. I had not seen him for a fortnight, for his
calls had ceased even before Frances' last visit. Hephzy had said that,
in her opinion, his meals must be disagreeing with him. Judging by his
appearance his digestion was still very much impaired. He was in evening
dress, of course; being an English gentleman he would have dressed for
his own execution, if it was scheduled to take place after six o'clock.
But his tie was carelessly arranged, his shirt bosom was slightly
crumpled and there was a general "don't care" look about his raiment
which was, for him, most unusual. And he was very solemn. I decided at
once, whatever might have happened, it was not what I surmised. He was
neither a happy bridegroom nor a prospective one.

"Good evening, Bayliss," said I, and extended my hand.

"Good evening, Knowles," he said, but he kept his own hands in his
pockets. And he did not ask me to be seated.

"Well?" he said, after a moment.

"I came to you," I began--mine was a delicate errand and hard to
state--"I came to you to ask if you could tell me where Miss Morley has
gone. She has left L'Abbaye and has given up her room at her lodgings.
She has gone--somewhere. Do you know where she is?"

It was quite evident that he did know. I could see it in his face. He
did not answer, however. Instead he glanced about uneasily and then,
turning, led the way toward a small reception room adjoining the lobby.
This room was, save for ourselves, unoccupied.

"We can be mor