Turner's face was grave enough when I had finished, and I saw him note with some surprise that he had allowed his coffee to get cold.
"I don't like the sound of it," he said.

"One never knows with a Frenchman--he is never too old to talk of his mother, or make an ass of himself." The English banker was of the greatest assistance to me during that most anxious day.

But we found no clew, nor discovered any reason for the Vicomte's disappearance.

I went back in the evening to the Hotel Clericy, and there found Madame de Clericy and Lucille awaiting me, with that calmness which is admirable when there is nothing else but waiting to be done.
It was at eight o'clock in the evening that the explanation came, from a source as natural as it was unexpected.

A letter was delivered by the postman for Madame de Clericy, who at once recognized her husband's unsteady handwriting.