articularly with her;
and he preferred to meet her alone. She was a very beautiful woman, and
very alluring, and the time was, and not so long ago, when he would have
gone far out of his way to meet her; but another face--and
business--occupied him at present. Moreover, the business had to do with
Mrs. Spencer, and that shortly. Therefore he was content to be patient.
Mrs. Clephane first.

So he went on to the private office and the manager.

"I've just taken another look over this floor," he said; "Mrs. Clephane
is not to be seen."

"We paged her, also," returned Banks; "and we've had every vacant room
in the house examined without result. Here's the diagram; let us go over
it, perhaps we can get a lead from it. About half of the guests are
personally known to the hotel; they are either permanent guests or have
been coming here for a long time. However, pick out any that you suspect
and we'll try to find a way to get into their rooms. We are always at
the service of the government, particularly the State Department."

Harleston ran his eyes over the diagram, searching for Madeline Spencer.
It was barely possible that she was registered under one of her own
names. He found it at last--or thought he had: No. 717:--Madame Cuthbert
and maid.

"What do you know of her?" he asked, indicating No. 717.

"Nothing whatever, except that she seems to have plenty of money, and
looks the lady."

"When did she come?"

"Three days ago."

"What is No. 717?"

"Two bedrooms, a parlour, and a bath."

"I should like to know if she has had callers, and who they are; also,
if the house detective knows anything of her movements?"

"One moment, sir," said Banks--

"And you might inquire also," Harleston added, "as to the bald-headed
man who is her companion this evening?"

"Very good, sir," said Banks, and went out.

"I tell you there are quite too many women in this affair," Harleston
muttered--and went back to inspecting the chart.

And the more he inspected, the more hopeless grew his task. If Mrs.
Clephane had been lured to one of the rooms, it would be next to
impossible to find her. There were a hundred well-dressed and
quiet-mannered guests who seemed beyond suspicion; and yet it was in the
room of one of these unobtrusive guests, who had never so much as looked
at Mrs. Spencer, that Mrs. Clephane was held prisoner. There was small
hope--none, indeed--that a search of Madeline Spencer's apartment would
yield even a