CHAPTER II.

ARREST AND INTERROGATION.

The Hotel Versailles and St. Cloud was one of the best hotels of Paris
at this time, a time long antecedent to the opening of such vast
caravansaries as the Louvre, the Continental, the Athenee, or the
Grand. It occupied four sides of a courtyard, to which access was had
by the usual gateway. The porter's lodge was in the latter, and this
functionary, in sabots and shirt-sleeves, was sweeping out the
entrance when the police arrived in a cab, which they ordered to wait
at the door.

"M. Gascoigne?" asked the agent.

"On the first floor, number forty-three," replied the porter, without
looking up. "Monsieur has but just returned," he went on. "Knock
gently, or you may disturb him in his first sleep."

"We shall disturb him in any case," said the police-officer, gruffly.
"Justice cannot wait."

"The police!" cried the porter, now recognising his visitors for the
first time. "What has happened, in Heaven's name?"

"Stand aside; we have no time to gossip," replied the agent, as he
passed on.

The occupant of No. 43 upon the first floor was pacing his room with
agitated steps--a young man with fair complexion and light curly hair;
but his blue eyes were clouded, and his fresh, youthful face was drawn
and haggard. His attire, too--English, like his aspect--was torn and
dishevelled, his voluminous neckcloth was disarranged, his waistcoat
had lost several buttons, and there were stains--dark purple
stains--upon sleeves and smallclothes.

"What has become of her?" he was saying as he strode up and down; "she
has not been here; she could not have come home when we parted at the
door of the Vaudeville--the bed has not been slept in. Can she have
gone? Is it possible that she has left me?"

He sank into a chair and hid his face in his hands.

"It was too horrible. To see him fall at my feet, struck down just
when I--Who is there?" he cried suddenly, in answer to a knock at
the door.

"Open, in the name of the law!"

"The police here already! What shall I do?"

"Open at once, or we shall force the door."

The young man slowly drew back the bolt and admitted the two
police-agents.

"M. Gascoigne? You will not answer to your name? That is equal--we
arrest you."

"On what charge?"

"It is not our place to explain. We act by authority: that is enough.
Will you go with us quietly, or must we use force?"

"Of what am I accused?"

"You will hear in good time. Isid