"Winslow"--Mrs. Whitney, fully dressed, stepped into the hall from her boudoir. "Pardon me," with a courteous inclination of her head as the coroner and Mitchell rose. "Winslow, I've asked the servants, and they tell me she has disappeared...." "She? Who?" chorused the three men. "Julie, my French maid." CHAPTER XIII HIDE AND SEEK Charles Miller was generally an early riser, but the head waiter at the Metropole was surreptitiously scanning his watch before giving the signal to close the dining-room doors, when the Captain walked in and took his accustomed seat at a distant table. Miller had but time to glance at the headline, "Stormy Cabinet Meeting Predicted at White House Today," in his morning newspaper, when eggs and toast were placed before him. His attentive waiter poured the hot coffee and placed cream and sugar in his cup without waiting for instructions. "Eggs all right, sir?" he asked anxiously, a trace of accent in his pleasant voice. "Yes, thanks." Miller looked at him casually. "I haven't seen you before; where's Jenkins?" "Transferred to the cafe, sir," smoothing a wrinkle out of the tablecloth as he spoke. "I'll try to give satisfaction, sir." Miller nodded absently. "Oh, it's all right," he said, stifling a yawn, and propping his newspaper against his coffee pot, ate his breakfast leisurely, so leisurely that the other habitues of the hotel had finished their breakfast and departed before he pushed back his chair. Turning, he signed to his waiter to bring his check, and not appearing to do so, watched his approach with keen interest. "Been a steward, haven't you?" he inquired. "Yes, sir." The waiter pocketed the tip with alacrity. "Hamburg-American Line, sir." "Thought so." Miller signed his name with careful attention to each stroke of the pencil. "How many of you are employed here?" "Eight, sir. The lines are tied up; we must have work, and it's hard to get good berths, sir, with so many ships interned." "Quite so," Miller rose. "Your name--?" "Lewis. Just a moment, sir," as Miller started to cross the deserted dining-room, "Shall I reserve the table for you for luncheon, sir?" "Luncheon?" Miller reflected. "I rather think not." "Thank you, sir." The waiter's manner was apologetic. "I asked, sir, because, sir, today the Cabinet officers lunch here, and...." "They require your undivided attention?" mildly. "I quite understand--Ludwig." Their eyes met, then Miller turned on his heel. _"Auf wiedersehen"_ he exclaimed under his breath, and the waiter's stolid expression changed to one of relief. Miller, who had checked his overcoat and hat before entering the dining-room, wasted no time but entered a public telephone booth. When he emerged he was whistling cheerily, and the doorkeeper watched him hail a street car with curious eyes. "Always running in and out," he muttered. "It beats me when he sleeps."