He next drove to the West End Hotel, where Roma and her friends had been in the habit of stopping while in Washington. Here he wisely inquired for the lady by her maiden name, knowing full well that she had never acknowledged his. “Miss Fronde?” repeated the office clerk. “Yes, sir, she was here with the Grays, last November. Mr. Gray was appointed consul to Delicome, and sailed for Liverpool about the twenty-second of the month, I think.” “Did Miss Fronde accompany them?” “No, sir. She went to the new apartment house on the Mount Pleasant Road—the Wesleyan Flats. She was there for some time, I know. She may be there yet,” added the clerk. “Thank you for the information,” said Hanson, and he left the hotel, re-entered his hack, and gave the order: “To the Wesleyan Flats.” Twenty minutes’ drive brought him to the building. He got out and entered the hall, the door of which stood open. “Can you tell me whether Miss Fronde is staying here at present?” he inquired of our friend Tom, who was on duty there as hall porter. “She dun lef’ mo’ ’an a week ago,” answered the boy. “Where has she gone?” “Dun know. Down de country somewhurse. She writ it on a keerd an’ guv me, but mammy’s got it, an’ I’s forgot.” “Can I see the landlord?” “I dun know nuffin ’bout no lan’lor. Yo’ kin see Missis B’own, I yeckon. She ’ten’s to eberyfing.” “Then take my card to Mrs. Brown,” Hanson said, handing over the slip of pasteboard. The boy disappeared within the elevator, which was about to rise to the upper regions. Hanson walked up and down the hall for about five minutes, at the end of which time Tom reappeared with a message to the effect that Mrs. Brown would see the visitor. Hanson followed the boy to the elevator, which rose to the top floor of the house, on which Mrs. Brown’s “sky parlor” was located. It was a plainly furnished room, with a Kidderminster carpet, horsehair chairs and sofa, and windows overlooking the whole city, the Potomac and Anacostia rivers, and the wooded hills of Maryland and Virginia. Mrs. Brown, the same stout, compact woman of medium height, with fresh complexion, black eyes and black hair, clothed in a dark woolen suit, as I have before described her, rose from her chair and came forward with outstretched hand to meet the visitor, saying: “I am very glad to see any friend of Miss Fronde. She endeared herself very much to us all during the four months she remained with us.” “She was here four months, then?” “Yes, sir. Sit down, pray.” Hanson took a seat and Mrs. Brown resumed her own. “Miss Fronde was the bosom friend of my sister, and something nearer and dearer still to myself,” said Hanson, with an air of claiming the lady as his betrothed. He dared not go further than that then, for he could not know how much or how little this Mrs. Brown might know of Roma’s position. “Oh, indeed, sir!” exclaimed the janitress. “I am delighted to hear it. But how is it that we never saw you here all winter?”