In due course he explained his business to the great man, but the latter shook his head when he heard what was required of him, and asked French for suggestions as to how he could help. “First I should like to see the register,” French explained. “That, at least, is easily done.” The manager led the way to the office and introduced French to the radiant young woman who presided at the reception counter. Then turning over the pages of the register, he presently exclaimed, “That looks like it, Inspector, I fancy.” The entry read: “Nov. 24. Mrs. Chauncey S. Root, Pittsburg, U. S. A. 137.” French drew out the cheques he had obtained from Mr. Scarlett and carefully compared the signatures. “That’s it,” he declared. “There’s not a doubt those are in the same handwriting. Now the question is, Can this young lady remember the woman?” The clerk hesitated. “We had a lot of Americans in that day,” she said slowly, as she ran her eyes down the list of names. “It is not easy to keep track of them all. And this is six weeks ago.” She paused again, then shook her head. “I’m afraid I can’t just place her.” “It was the day the _Olympic_ got to Southampton,” French prompted. “There would no doubt have been a number of people off the steamer special.” He glanced once more at the book. “See, here is a crowd of Americans all together. New York, Boston, New York, New York, Philadelphia, and so on. That represents the special. But——” He paused and ran his finger down the column. “Now, this is really rather interesting. Mrs. Root’s name is not among them. Here it is, down near the end of the list. That means that she came in late in the evening, doesn’t it? Does that help you at all, Miss Pearson?” He waited, but the girl not replying, he continued, “Or the room? Does No. 137 bring anything to your mind?” The girl shook her pretty head. “Turn up the account, Miss Pearson,” the manager suggested. The girl produced another huge book, and all three went through the items. Mrs. Root, it appeared, had paid for the rooms—No. 137 was a suite consisting of one bedroom, bathroom and sitting-room—for the three nights, the 24th, 25th, and 26th of November. She had had seven meals in the hotel, dinner on the night of arrival, and breakfast, lunch, and dinner on the next two days. All these meals she had had served in her private room. “Avoiding publicity,” French thought, continuing aloud, “Then she didn’t breakfast on the morning she left?” At his remark Miss Pearson gave an exclamation.