"I can't find Claremanagh anywhere, or hear of his movements since two o'clock," Manners said. "He was then at a club you probably never heard of. It's called 'The Joint'. All sorts of men belong--actors, writers, lawyers, sportsmen, and at least one private detective! Pat isn't a member. I shouldn't have thought of the place if a man I know (the one who will introduce me to Mademoiselle Pavoya) hadn't mentioned seeing Pat there this morning with two men. That's why I went round, after I'd tried everywhere else. Well, he was there at five, with the detective I spoke of just now, and a Frenchman named Defasquelle. That name will strike you! He had an appointment to come back and dine with Defasquelle who, it seems, came with an introduction and has been made a foreign member. In fact, he's staying at the club, and I have been talking with him. In the hope of seeing Pat at eight, I waited, because Defasquelle was so sure he would come. But at half-past nine he hadn't turned up. I've 'phoned everywhere I can think of since, and left word that I'm to be called whenever there's news, no matter what time. When I go out--as I must do if I'm to meet the _lady_--I shall leave my address with the Tarascon people." "What can have happened to Pat!" Manners heard Juliet cry. "Don't worry. He's certain to be all right," Jack assured her. But he wasn't quite comfortable upon that point himself and had quietly 'phoned all the hospitals. It looked queer that Claremanagh hadn't kept that engagement with Defasquelle. He had apparently been anxious to keep it. If there had been an accident to a man so well known, surely the news would have got into the evening papers. Yet there was no news anywhere of any kind, since the Duke had walked out of "The Joint" at five. Were such a thing not too absurdly far-fetched, Jack would have asked himself if any one existed who might wish Claremanagh to disappear? CHAPTER XIII A WOMAN'S EYES "Mademoiselle Pavoya, this is Captain John Manners, just back from France: a cousin of the Duchess of Claremanagh's," said the manager who was introducing Jack. Lyda Pavoya lifted her drooping head a little--only a little, and fixed upon Manners a pair of dark eyes. "A pair of dark eyes!" Simple words, and a simple act. There are many women in the world with dark eyes, and many had looked at John Manners. But these eyes of the Polish woman----! As they gave that upward look from under heavy lashes Manners felt himself a traitor. He had heard all sorts of stories about Lyda Pavoya. He had got an impression that she was a "tigress woman." And then, the dancing that he had seen her do was wild and barbaric. But to-night she was a swan.