ne of the best dressed men in Paris. He went out alone, and was never
seen again."

"Never again," repeated the Countess, a slight shade passing across her
brow.

"Never again," echoed the unmoved doctor. "At first his friends
merely thought his absence strange; but at the end of a week they grew
anxious."

"You go very much into details."

"I heard them all at the time, madame, and they were only brought back
to my memory this morning. All are to be found in the records of a
minute search that the authorities caused to be made into the affair.
The friends of De Croisenois had commenced the search; but when they
found their efforts useless, they called in the aid of the police. The
first idea was suicide: George might have gone into some lonely spot and
blown out his brains. There was no reason for this; he had ample means,
and always appeared contented and happy. Then it was believed that a
murder had been committed, and fresh inquiries were instituted, but
nothing could be discovered--nothing."

The Countess affected to stifle a yawn, and repeated like an echo,
"Nothing."

"Three months later, when the police had given up the matter in despair,
one of George de Croisenois' friends received a letter from him."

"He was not dead then, after all?"

Dr. Hortebise made a mental note of the tone and manner of the Countess,
to consider over at his leisure.

"Who can say?" returned he. "The envelope bore the Cairo post-mark. In
it George declared that, bored with Parisian life, he was going to start
on an exploring expedition to Central Africa, and that no one need be
anxious about him. People thought this letter highly suspicious. A man
does not start upon such an expedition as this without money; and it was
conclusively proved that on the day of De Croisenois' disappearance
he had not more than a thousand francs about him, half of which was in
Spanish doubloons, won at whist before dinner. The letter was therefore
regarded as a trick to turn the police off the scent; but the best
experts asserted that the handwriting was George's own. Two detectives
were at once despatched to Cairo, but neither there nor anywhere on the
road were any traces of the missing man discovered."

As the doctor spoke, he kept his eyes riveted on the Countess, but her
face was impassable.

"Is that all?" asked she.

Dr. Hortebise paused a few moments before he replied, and then answered
slowly,--

"A man came to me yesterday, and a