Forster was going to leave the office, when he suddenly recollected, with a shudder, his sister’s insinuations as to the mysterious meetings with the Frenchman. With a deep sense of shame, while strongly expressing his own faith in his wife’s purity, he explained to the officer what had taken place. That functionary immediately pricked up his ears, for he saw a clue. Could Forster supply him with the Frenchman’s name? Forster could not, in the spur of the moment, but that afternoon he procured it from his sister (who had noted it carefully down for future use when at the Countess’s), and sent it on to the inquiry office. A few days afterwards he was informed, quasi-officially, that the French gentleman in question, M. Gavrolles, was living quietly at his London lodgings, and, though watched day and night, appeared quite innocent of any knowledge of the fugitive’s whereabouts. This, we may remark in parenthesis, was literally true. The news of Madeline’s flight, which had, of course, been bruited abroad despite all Forster’s precautions, had taken Gavrolles utterly by surprise. The cosmic creature felt himself circumvented, bewildered. His victim had escaped him for the time being, that was clear, and until she reappeared upon the scene he could do nothing whatever in the matter. One morning, as the chief of the private inquiry office sat waiting for business, there was shown in a gentleman, who, after a brief conversation, proved to have come on the very same business already entrusted to the firm by Forster. He wished the strictest inquiry to be made concerning the whereabouts of the missing lady, until she was traced and discovered, when he was at once to receive intimation. ‘You’ll excuse me, sir,’ said the chief, looking very mysterious, ‘but may I ask, are you any relation to the lady?’ ‘None whatever.’ ‘A friend, perhaps?’ ‘Scarcely that. I am interested deeply in her fate, however, and if you find out what has become of her I will pay you handsomely.’ The chief seemed to reflect deeply. ‘I don’t think you mean any harm, sir,’ he said presently, ‘and I can see you’re a real gentleman, but you see we have to be careful. Is Mr. Forster a friend of yours?’ ‘No; I don’t think I ever saw him in my life.’ ‘Then, of course, sir, you can’t owe him any grudge?’ ‘Certainly not. All the harm I wish him is that he may recover his wife, and that they may be happily reconciled.’ The chief smiled. ‘Then I don’t mind telling you, sir,’ he said, ‘that we’re instructed already--by the husband. You can’t serve two masters, as the saying is, but if we can oblige you in any way, without breaking faith to our first employer, we’ll do it.’ ‘You can keep me informed of your progress, and if you are successful----’ ‘Let you know? Well, I think we can promise that. I’ll take down your name, if you please, sir.’ ‘Edgar Sutherland,’ replied the gentleman, adding the address of his club.