Early next morning he was seated with the manager, who also spoke English. But neither the manager nor any of his staff could help him, and French recognised that so far as the Orient was concerned he had drawn blank. He therefore set to work on the other hotels, taking the larger first, the Colon, in the Plaza de Cataluna, the Cuatro Naciones, and such like. Then he went on to the smaller establishments, and at the fourth he paused suddenly, thrilled by an unexpected sight. The hotel was in a side street off the Paseo de Colon, the great boulevard through which he had been driven on the previous evening. The entrance door led into a kind of lounge in which were seated half a dozen people, evidently waiting for déjeuner. With one exception these were obviously Spaniards, but that exception, French felt he could swear, was the original of the photograph. In spite of such a meeting being what he was hoping for, the Inspector was taken aback. But his hesitation was momentary. Passing immediately on to the little office at the back of the lounge, he said in English: “Can I have lunch, please? Will it soon be ready?” A dark-eyed, dark-haired girl came forward, smiling but shaking her head regretfully, and murmuring what was evidently that she couldn’t understand. “You don’t speak English, miss?” the detective went on, speaking loudly and very clearly. “I want to know can I have lunch, and if it will soon be ready?” As the girl still shook her head, French turned back into the lounge. “Excuse me,” he addressed the company generally, “but might I ask if any of you gentlemen speak English? I can’t make this young lady understand.” The little ruse succeeded. The man resembling Vanderkemp rose. “I speak English,” he answered. “What is it you want?” “Lunch,” French returned, “and to know if it will soon be ready.” “I can answer that for you,” the other declared, after he had explained the situation to the girl. “Lunch will be ready in exactly five minutes, and visitors are usually welcome.” “Thank you.” French spoke in a leisurely, conversational way. “I am staying at the Orient, where one or two of them speak English, but business brought me to this part of the town, and I did not want to go all that way back to lunch. A confounded nuisance this language business! It makes you feel pretty helpless when you want to talk to people.” “That’s true,” the stranger admitted. “In most of the larger hotels they speak French and English, but at practically none of the smaller. In this one, for example, one waiter has a few words of French only. No English or Italian or German. Some of the staff don’t even speak Spanish.” French was interested in spite of the larger question which was occupying his mind. “Not Spanish?” he repeated. “How do you mean? What do they speak?”