“That is quite right, and this lady is his niece,” I returned.  “She has brought me extraordinary intelligence.  Her uncle and his companion have suddenly disappeared from the little village in Surrey, where they have been staying some time with her.  It is her belief that they have come to Paris in search of Hayle.  There would have been trouble had they met, but fortunately for them, and for Hayle, he has given them the slip once more.  It would be possible for you to find out whether they arrived by this morning’s train, and also whether they have made inquiries at Hayle’s apartments, would it not?”

“Quite possible,” he answered.  “It shall be done at once.  I will let you know in less than an hour what I have discovered.”

I thanked him, whereupon he bowed to Miss Kitwater, and then disappeared.

“Monsieur Leglosse is also in pursuit of Hayle,” I explained.  “He holds a warrant for his arrest on a charge of embezzlement in Cochin China.  For that reason we are following him to Naples to-morrow morning.”

“To Naples.  Has the wretched man gone there?”

“So we have been led to believe,” I answered.

“Then do you think my uncle will find it out and follow him?” she asked, wringing her hands.  “Oh! it is all too terrible.  What shall I do?”

“Well, if I might be allowed to be like David Copperfield’s Mr. Dick, I should be practical, and say ‘dine’!  I suppose you have had nothing to eat since you left England?”

She gave a little wan smile.

“We have not had very much, certainly,” she answered.  “Poor Nelly, you must be nearly starving.”

The maid, however, protested that she was not; but was not to be denied.  Bidding them remain where they were, I went down-stairs and interviewed my faithful friend, the concierge.  With her I arranged that Miss Kitwater and her maid should be provided with rooms in the house for that night, and having done so went on to the nearest restaurant.  In something less than ten minutes all was settled, and in under twenty they were seated at their meal.  At first the girl would not sit down with her mistress, but with her usual thoughtfulness, Miss Kitwater ordered her to do so.

“And now, Mr. Fairfax,” she said, when they had finished, “we must discover a hotel where we can stay the night.  At present we know of no place in which to lay our heads.”

“You need not trouble about that,” I said, “I have already arranged that you shall have rooms in this house if you care to occupy them.  The old lady to whom it belongs is a particular friend of mine, and will certainly do her best to make you comfortable.  I presume that it was your bag I saw in the concierge’s office, when I was there just now?”

“We left it there,” she answered, and then gave me my reward by adding—­“It is very kind of you, Mr. Fairfax to have taken so much trouble.  I cannot thank you sufficiently.”