If he was correct as to the size of the town, it was one which would be marked on a fairly small scale map, and taking his atlas, he began to make a list of all those which seemed to meet the case. He soon saw there were a number—Calais, Amiens, Beauvais, Étaples, Arras, Soissons, Troyes, Ypres, Bruges, Roulers, and Malines. He had by this time become so excited over his quest that in spite of the hour—it was long past his bedtime—he telephoned to the Yard to send him Baedeker’s Guides to Northern France and Belgium, and when these came he began eagerly looking up the hotels in each of the towns on his list. For a considerable time he worked on without result, then suddenly he laughed from sheer delight. He had reached Bruges, and there, third on the list, was “Grand Hôtel du Sablon!” Moreover, this name exactly filled the required space. “Got it in one,” he chuckled, feeling immensely pleased with himself. But French, if sometimes an enthusiastic optimist and again a down and out pessimist, was at all times thorough. He did not stop at Bruges. He worked all the way through the list, and it was not until he had satisfied himself that no other hotel fulfilling the conditions existed in any of the other towns, that he felt himself satisfied. It was true there was an Hotel du Carillon in Malines, but this name was obviously too short for the space. As he went jubilantly to bed, the vision of a trip to the historic city of Bruges bulked large in his imagination. Chapter XVI A Tale of Two Cities Next morning French had an interview with his chief at the Yard at which he produced the torn hotel bill, and having demonstrated the methods by which he had come to identify it with the Grand Hôtel du Sablon in Bruges, suggested that a visit there might be desirable. To his secret relief Chief Inspector Mitchell took the same view, and it was arranged that he should cross as soon as he could get away. On his return to his room he found Cheyne waiting for him. The young man seemed to have aged by years since his frenzied appeal to the Yard, and his anxious face and distrait manner bore testimony to the mental stress through which he was passing. Eagerly he inquired for news. “None so far, I’m sorry to say,” French answered, “except that we have found that Miss Merrill did return to her rooms that night,” and he told what he had learned of Joan’s movements, as well as of his visit to Hackworth’s garage, and of Blessington’s exchange of cars. But of Bruges and the hotel bill he said nothing. Cheyne, he felt sure, would have begged to be allowed to accompany him to Belgium, and this he did not want. But in his kindly way he talked sympathetically to the young man reiterating his promise to let him know directly anything of importance was learned.