n, after the first dismay, came indignant
protests; this man had a nerve to break in on a gathering of American
citizens with a fairy tale like that!

"Silence!" rang out the commissary's voice sharply. "Who sat there?" He
pointed to a vacant seat at the long central table.

All eyes turned to this empty chair, and heads came together in excited
whispers.

"Bring me a plan of the tables," he continued, and when this was spread
before him: "I will read off the names marked here, and each one of you
will please answer."

In tense silence he called the names, and to each one came a quick "Here!"
until he said "Kittredge!"

There was no answer.

"Lloyd Kittredge!" he repeated, and still no one spoke.

"Ah!" he muttered and went on calling names, but no one else was missing.

"All here but M. Kittredge. He _was_ here, and--he went out. I must know
why he went out, I must know when he went out--exactly when; I must know
how he acted before he left, what he said--in short, I must know all you
can tell me about him. Remember, the best service you can render your
friend is to speak freely. If he is innocent, the truth will protect him"

Then began a wearisome questioning of witnesses, not very fruitful, either,
for these Americans developed a surprising ignorance touching their
fellow-countryman and all that concerned him. It must have been about nine
o'clock when he went out, perhaps a few minutes earlier. No, there had been
nothing peculiar in his actions or manner; in fact, most of the guests had
not even noticed his absence.

As to Kittredge's life and personality the result was scarcely more
satisfactory. He had appeared in Paris about a year before, just why was
not known, and had passed as a good fellow, perhaps a little wild and
hot-headed. Strangely enough, no one could say where Kittredge lived; he
had left rather expensive rooms near the boulevards that he had occupied at
first, and since then he had almost disappeared from his old haunts. Some
said that his money had given out and he had gone to work, but this was
only vague rumor.

These facts having been duly recorded, the banqueters were informed that
they might depart, which they did in silence, the spirit of festivity
having vanished.

Inquiries were now made in the hotel about Kittredge's movements, but
nothing came to light except the statement of a big, liveried doorkeeper,
who remembered distinctly the sudden appearance at about nine o'clock of