e they more disloyal?" Vanderlyn spoke quietly,
indifferently, as if the question was of no moment.

"Men," said Monsieur le Prefet, dryly, "are as a rule quite as loyal,
especially where they feel their honour is engaged. But with a man it is
possible to reason; a woman, especially a good woman, follows the
dictates of instinct,--in other words, of her heart."

"I notice, Monsieur le Prefet, that you eliminate the possibility of
material accident having occurred to Mrs. Pargeter?"

"Let us distinguish!" exclaimed the older man quickly. "If, by accident,
you mean, Mr. Vanderlyn, the type of mishap which might have occurred to
this lady when she was walking or driving in our Paris streets, then I
certainly eliminate the possibility of accident to Mrs. Pargeter. Within
six hours of such a thing having occurred the facts would have been laid
before me, and, as you know, two nights and two days have elapsed since
her disappearance. If, on the other hand, we envisage the possibility of
suicide, then are opened up a new series of possibilities."

The Prefect gave a piercing look at the American's worn and sorrow-laden
face, but he did not find written there any involuntary answer to his
mute interrogation.

"Some years ago," went on the great official, "a man well known in Paris
society made up his mind to take his own life. He hired a cellar, locked
the door, and then shot himself. Months went by before his disappearance
was accounted for, and then the body was only discovered by an accident.
If Mrs. Pargeter has committed suicide, and if she, an intelligent
woman, was determined that the fact should never be found out by her
friends, then I admit our task becomes a very difficult one! But I do
not believe," he continued, after a short silence, "that Mrs. Pargeter
did this. I believe she is alive, and well. She was, by each account
that has reached me, young, charming, and wealthy. She had a child whom
she apparently adored. As for her relations with her husband----" the
Prefect shrugged his shoulders, and again looked searchingly at
Vanderlyn.

"Mr. Thomas Pargeter," he went on, smiling, "is not perhaps the perfect
husband of whom every young girl dreams; but then no one is so foolish
as to search for the perfect husband in the world to which your friend
belongs! He is not exactly a _viveur_,--but he is, to use the slang of
the day, essentially a _jouisseur_. Is not that so?" He added, with a
rather twisted grin, "If