no
idea what can have caused the sudden mental breakdown."

I felt impelled to relate to him the whole story of my own adventures,
but I hesitated. As a matter of fact I feared that he might regard it,
as he most probably would have done, as a mere chimera of my own
imagination.

A girl I had seen dead--or believed I had seen dead--was now living!
And she was Gabrielle Tennison.

Of that I had no doubt, for the dates of our adventures corresponded.

And yet a girl also named Gabrielle had died and her body had been
cremated!

The whole affair seemed to be beyond human credence. And yet you, my
reader, have in this record the exact, hard and undeniable facts.

CHAPTER THE THIRTEENTH

SOME INTERESTING REVELATIONS

Next day I went to the office of Francis and Goldsmith, and after a
consultation with both principals, during which I briefly outlined the
curious circumstances such as I have here related, I was granted
further leave of absence.

Yet I entertained a distinct feeling that old Mr. Francis somewhat
doubted the truth of my statements. But was it surprising, so
extraordinary had been my adventures?

"Perhaps you do not credit my statements, gentlemen," I said before
leaving their room. "But one day I hope to solve the enigma, and you
will then learn one of the most extraordinary stories that any man has
lived to tell."

Afterwards I went round to the Carlton and inquired for Monsieur
Suzor. To my surprise he was in.

Therefore I was ushered up to his private sitting-room, where he
greeted me very warmly--so frankly welcome did he make me, indeed,
that I wondered whether, after all, he had detected me following him,
or whether he had entered and escaped from that house in the Euston
Road with some entirely different motive.

"Ah, my dear friend!" he cried in his excellent English. "I wondered
what had become of you. I called at Rivermead Mansions three days ago,
but I could get no reply when I rang at your flat. The porter said
that both you and your friend were out, and he had no idea when you
would return. I go back to Paris to-morrow."

"Shall you fly across this time?" I asked.

"No. I go by train. I have a lot of luggage--some purchases I have
made for my friend the Baroness de Henonville."

It was then about five o'clock, so he ordered some tea, and over
cigarettes we chatted for nearly an hour.

The longer I conversed with him the more mysterious he appeared. Why
had he crossed