a boon that clew of yours has been to the
detective mind! To think that, without the Minotaur, the police would
probably never have hit on that invaluable expression, 'the police have
a clew.'"

Maitland thought this was trifling with the subject.

"This advertisement," he said, gravely, "appears to me undoubtedly to
refer to the miscreant who carried off Margaret, poor girl."

"Does it, by Jove?" cried Barton, with some eagerness this time. "Let's
have a look at it!"

This was what he read aloud:

"Bearskin Coat.--The gentleman travelling with a young lady,
who, on Feb. 19th, left a bearskin coat at the Hotel Alsace
and Lorraine, Avenue de l'Opera, Paris, is requested to
remove it, or it will be sold to defray expenses.

"Dupin."

"This _may_ mean business," he said, "or it may not. In the first place,
is there such an hotel in Paris as the 'Alsace et Lorraine,' and is M.
Dupin the proprietor?"

"_That's_ all right," said Maitland. "I went at once to the Club, and
looked up the _Bottin_, the Paris Directory, don't you know."

"So far, so good; and yet I don't quite see what you can make of it. It
does not come to much, you know, even if the owner of the coat is the
man you want And again, is he likely to have left such a very notable
article of dress behind him in an hotel? Anyway, can't you send some
detective fellow? Are you going over yourself in this awful weather?"

So Barton argued, but Maitland was not to be easily put off the hopeful
scent.

"Why, don't you see," he exclaimed, "the people at the hotel will at
least be able to give one a fuller description of the man than anything
we have yet. And they may have some idea of where he has gone to; and,
at least, they will have noticed how he was treating Margaret, and that,
of course, is what I am most anxious to learn. Again, he may have left
other things besides the coat, or there may be documents in the pockets.
I have read of such things happening."

"Yes, in 'Le Crime de l'Opera;' and a very good story, too," answered
the incredulous Barton; "but I don't fancy that the villain of real life
is quite so innocent and careless as the monster of fiction."

"Everyone knows that murderers are generally detected through some
incredible piece of carelessness," said Mait-land; "and why should this
elaborate scoundrel be more fortunate than the rest? If he _did_ leave
the coat, he will scarcely care to go back for it; and I do no