"Write? _Bah!_ Did you ever hear of a Provençal writing when he could talk?" He tapped his lips, and in an instant, like a whirlwind, he passed from my ken. * * * * * Aristide on his arrival at Chislehurst looked about the pleasant, leafy place--it was a bright October afternoon and the wooded hillside blazed in russet and gold--and decided it was the perfect environment for Miss Janet and Miss Anne, to say nothing of little Jean. A neat red brick house with a trim garden in front of it looked just the kind of a house wherein Miss Janet and Miss Anne would live. He rang the bell. A parlour-maid, in spotless black and white, tutelary nymph of Suburbia, the very parlour-maid who would minister to Miss Janet and Miss Anne, opened the door. "Miss Honeywood?" he inquired. "Not here, sir," said the parlour-maid. "Where is she? I mean, where are they?" "No one of that name lives here," said the parlour-maid. "Who does live here?" "Colonel Brabazon." "And where do the two Miss Honeywood live?" he asked with his engaging smile. But English suburban parlour-maids are on their guard against smiles, no matter how engaging. She prepared to shut the door. "I don't know." "How can I find out?" "You might enquire among the tradespeople." "Thank you, mademoiselle, you are a most intelligent young----" The door shut in his face. Aristide frowned. She was a pretty parlour-maid, and Aristide didn't like to be so haughtily treated by a pretty woman. But his quest being little Jean and not the eternal feminine, he took the maid's advice and made enquiries at the prim and respectable shops. "Oh, yes," said a comely young woman in a fragrant bakers' and confectioners'. "They were two ladies, weren't they? They lived at Hope Cottage. We used to supply them. They left Chislehurst two years ago." "_Sacré nom d'un chien!_" said Aristide. "Beg pardon?" asked the young woman. "I am disappointed," said Aristide. "Where did they go to?" "I'm sure I can't tell you." "Do you remember whether they had a baby?" "They were maiden ladies," said the young woman rebukingly. "But anybody can keep a baby without being its father or mother. I want to know what has become of the baby." The young woman gazed through the window. "You had better ask the policeman." "That's an idea," said Aristide, and, leaving her, he caught up the passing constable.