The manager did not know. After his coffee and roll M. Rivers had paid his bill and given up his room. Did he leave in a cab? No, he left on foot, carrying his bag with him. Perhaps he went to a railway station? Ah, it was possible. Perhaps he was still in Paris. Ah, it was possible. If M. Rivers returned to the hotel, would the manager give him my card with a few words in pencil on it, asking him to come immediately to the Hôtel de Bade? M. Rivers should have the card, yes, with much pleasure. And so, good-morning. I half expected to receive a letter from my wife, demanding an explanation of my running away, but there was none for me. And now, nothing would satisfy Ronald but that Bob should go to the Hôtel Chatham, to ascertain if Mr. Nisbet was still there. He went and returned, we waiting for him as before at the corner of the Rue Daonou. Mr. Nisbet had left the hotel. "I spoke to a fool of a waiter," said Bob, "who thought he could speak English, and that is all I could get out of him." Ronald walked off at once to the hotel, and, knowing it would be useless to remonstrate, we followed him through the courtyard and into the office. There he entered into a conversation in French with a clerk. Yes, M. Nisbet and his friend had partaken of the usual first meal of the Frenchman, and had paid his bill and given up his room. Did they expect him to return? No, they did not. Had he and his friend occupied one room? Yes, a room with two beds. Did they leave on foot or in a cab? In a cab. For a railway station? Possibly. Did the clerk know for which railway station? He did not; he would inquire, if it was of importance. It was of great importance--would he kindly inquire. The _concierge_ was questioned. He did not know for which railway station. The waiters were questioned. They did not know for which railway station. And so, good-morning again. Thus were we left aground, as it were, with nothing but broken threads in our hands. Mr. Nisbet and Dr. Cooper had escaped us. CHAPTER XXV. WE COME TO A HALT.