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Should he knock, push the note under, or....?  He looked furtively round and turned the handle.  The door opened, but into a little space leading to another door; he knocked on that—­no answer.  The door was locked.  It fitted very closely to the floor; the note would not go under.  He thrust it back into his pocket, and stood a moment listening.  He felt somehow certain that she was not there.  And suddenly he came away, passing the little salon down the stairs.  He stopped at the bureau and said: 

“Will you kindly see that Mrs. Heron has this note?”

“Madame Heron left to-day, Monsieur—­suddenly, about three o’clock.  There was illness in her family.”

Soames compressed his lips.  “Oh!” he said; “do you know her address?”

“Non, Monsieur.  England, I think.”

Soames put the note back into his pocket and went out.  He hailed an open horse-cab which was passing.

“Drive me anywhere!”

The man, who, obviously, did not understand, smiled, and waved his whip.  And Soames was borne along in that little yellow-wheeled Victoria all over star-shaped Paris, with here and there a pause, and the question, “C’est par ici, Monsieur?” “No, go on,” till the man gave it up in despair, and the yellow-wheeled chariot continued to roll between the tall, flat-fronted shuttered houses and plane-tree avenues—­a little Flying Dutchman of a cab.

‘Like my life,’ thought Soames, ‘without object, on and on!’

CHAPTER II

IN THE WEB

Soames returned to England the following day, and on the third morning received a visit from Mr. Polteed, who wore a flower and carried a brown billycock hat.  Soames motioned him to a seat.

“The news from the war is not so bad, is it?” said Mr. Polteed.  “I hope I see you well, sir.”

“Thanks! quite.”

Mr. Polteed leaned forward, smiled, opened his hand, looked into it, and said softly: 

“I think we’ve done your business for you at last.”

“What?” ejaculated Soames.

“Nineteen reports quite suddenly what I think we shall be justified in calling conclusive evidence,” and Mr. Polteed paused.

“Well?”

“On the 10th instant, after witnessing an interview between 17 and a party, earlier in the day, 19 can swear to having seen him coming out of her bedroom in the hotel about ten o’clock in the evening.  With a little care in the giving of the evidence that will be enough, especially as 17 has left Paris—­no doubt with the party in question.  In fact, they both slipped off, and we haven’t got on to them again, yet; but we shall—­we shall.  She’s worked hard under very difficult circumstances, and I’m glad she’s brought it off at last.”  Mr. Polteed took out a cigarette, tapped its end against the table, looked at Soames, and put it back.  The expression on his client’s face was not encouraging.