"The disappearance of the young lady was a source of much trouble to me, and I made all possible inquiries within the hotel.

I found that on the day of her disappearance Mademoiselle had been told by one of the attendants in the barber's shop, who had waited upon her brother on the night of his arrival, that he--Monsieur Guy--had asked for the name of some cafes for supper, and that he had recommended Cafe Montmartre.

Mademoiselle appears to have decided to go there herself to make inquiries.

We have no doubt that when she left the hotel on the night of her disappearance it was to there that she went." "You have told the police this ?" "Yes, I have told them," the manager answered dryly.

"Here is their latest report, if you care to see it." Duncombe took the little slip of paper and read it hastily.
"Disappearance of Mademoiselle Poynton, from England .-- We regret to state no trace has been discovered of the missing young lady.
"(Signed) JULES LEGARDE, Superintendent." "That was only issued a few hours ago," the manager said.
"And I thought," Duncombe said bitterly, "that the French police were the best in the world!" The manager said nothing.