an to appear more
and more of a task. Paris must be full of churches; to visit each of
them in turn would take weeks at least. Hephzy had given me three days.
I must join her at Interlaken in three days or there would be trouble.
And how was I to make even the most superficial search in three days?

Of course I had realized something of this before. Even in the state of
mind which Heathcroft's story had left me, I had realized that my errand
in Paris was a difficult one. I realized that I had set out on the
wildest of wild goose chases and that, even in the improbable event
of the singer's being Frances, my finding her was most unlikely. The
chances of success were a hundred to one against me. But I was in the
mood to take the hundredth chance. I should have taken it if the odds
were higher still. My plan--if it could be called a plan--was first of
all to buy a Paris Baedeker and look over the list of churches. This I
did, and, back in the hotel room, I consulted that list. It staggered
me. There were churches enough--there were far too many. Cathedrals and
chapels and churches galore--Catholic and Protestant. But there was no
church calling itself an abbey. I closed the Baedeker, lit a cigar, and
settled myself for further reflection.

The girl was singing somewhere and she called herself Mademoiselle Juno
or Junotte, so Heathcroft had said. So much I knew and that was all.
It was very, very little. But Herbert Bayliss had come to Paris, I
believed, because of what Heathcroft had told him. Did he know more
than I? It was possible. At any rate he had come. I had seen him on
the steamer, and I believed he had seen and recognized me. Of course
he might not be in Paris now; he might have gone elsewhere. I did not
believe it, however. I believed he had crossed the Channel on the same
errand as I. There was a possible chance. I might, if the other means
proved profitless, discover at which hotel Bayliss was staying and
question him. He might tell me nothing, even if he knew, but I could
keep him in sight, I could follow him and discover where he went.
It would be dishonorable, perhaps, but I was desperate and doggedly
regardless of scruples. I was set upon one thing--to find her, to see
her and speak with her again.

Shadowing Bayliss, however, I set aside as a last resort. Before that I
would search on my own hook. And, tossing aside the useless Baedeker,
I tried to think of someone whose advice might be of value. At last