“I think you and I, Mr. Lydon, will stay at the _Palace Hotel_; it is pretty handy to the other one. We will go there first and book our rooms, and then proceed to the _Terminus_. If we wait a bit in the great hall there, we shall be pretty certain to spot our quarry. We’ll take Simmons with us, as he will want to know her as well, in case he has to be put on the job later.” They secured their rooms and then went on to the _Terminus_. The hall was very full, but they found room in a corner, an admirable situation where they could survey everybody at their leisure without attracting too much attention themselves. They sat there a long time, and Lydon was beginning to fear that Miss Mayhew had changed her plans, gone to some other hotel than the one given in Stormont’s letter of instructions. But presently a familiar figure, dressed in the height of fashion, passed through the hall, and when near the exit, lingered as if she was waiting for some one. Lydon spoke to the detective in a low voice: “That is she, waiting at the end.” The two men took stock of her. “Singularly handsome young woman,” commented Grewgus in the same cautious tones. “I suppose she is waiting for the man Edwards.” But she was not. To Lydon’s surprise and relief, another familiar figure crossed the hall, joined her, and the two went out together. It was that of the woman he had known as Madame Makris, the tenant of the Villa des Cyclamens. There was no mistaking her. He remembered too well that stout form, the still handsome face with its traces of youthful good looks, the Jewish cast of countenance. He imparted the information to Grewgus. A satisfied smile stole over the detective’s countenance. “Well, this is a bit of the most splendid luck at the very start,” he said. “The mother, the blemish which I could not see from here, the pendant which I could see, I think we have found one of the most important things we wanted, at once. There can be no doubt, in face of those three things, that she is Elise Makris, or at any rate that that is one of possibly numerous aliases. Anyway, she is the woman who drove your friend to frenzy. I expect mother and daughter are devoted to each other, and hunt in couples wherever they can. The next thing is to find out what game they are after here.” He whispered a few words to his colleague, Simmons, who rose and left the hall. “I have sent him to make an inquiry,” Grewgus explained. “He knows a few of the servants here, and, as I told you, he speaks French like a Frenchman.” Simmons returned presently and related the result of his visit. “They give out they are Englishwomen, and are known as Mrs. and Miss Glenthorne. No man of the name of Edwards is staying here.”