Among the number were likenesses of Fensden and Henderson. There were also others of men who had nothing whatsoever to do with the case. The proprietor of the ground floor rooms picked them up one by one and examined them critically. When he reached Fensden’s portrait he held it up immediately. “That is the man,” he said to the interpreter. “I need look no farther. I should know him anywhere.” Burrell replaced the photographs in his pocket. “Ask him if he has any idea where the man he speaks of stayed when he was in Naples,” Burrell remarked to the man, but upon this subject it appeared that the other could give no sort of information, though he volunteered for a reward to find out. This help, however, Burrell declined. After rewarding him, he retraced his steps to the hotel. “It should not be difficult,” he thought as he went along, “to discover the Englishman’s abode during the time he was in Naples. He is not the sort of man to put up anywhere but at a good hotel.” Foreseeing for this reason that the number of the hotels at which the man he was inquiring about would be likely to stay, were limited, he resolved to institute investigations that afternoon. He was very soon successful. At the second at which he called he discovered that Fensden had resided there and that he had left again on the 3rd of February. The manager knew nothing of any _liaison_ with a girl of the city, nor could he say where his guest went after he left Naples. His servants were equally ignorant, though one of them believed Signor Fensden’s destination to have been Rome. Thanking the manager for his courtesy, Burrell left the hotel more than a little disappointed, to spend the remainder of the afternoon securing affidavits as to dates and generally verifying the discoveries he had made. “Well, I suppose there’s nothing for it but to try Rome,” he said to himself, when he had considered the matter in all its details. Early next morning he accordingly shook the highly scented dust of Naples from his feet, and in due course reached the Italian capital. He had been there many times before, and in consequence he was a great favourite at the hotel where he usually resided. The owner welcomed him effusively, somewhat as he would have done a long-lost brother of whom he stood in some little awe, and trusted that he had come to make a long stay. “I am afraid not,” said Burrell. “I have got an important piece of business on hand just now which must be completed as quickly as possible. I am trying to hunt up the doings of an Englishman, who I have reason to believe came here from Naples with a Neapolitan girl, in February last. Possibly he may have stayed with you. Here is his photograph. See if you can recognise him!” He thereupon produced the photograph of Fensden, and laid it on the table for the manager’s inspection. The latter, however, shook his head. He could not remember the face among his guests.