When French reached the hotel he took out some samples of Mr. Averill’s handwriting which he had obtained from Mr. Tarkington and compared them with that of Whymper’s note. But he saw at a glance that there was nothing abnormal here. All were obviously by the same hand. That evening after racking his brains over his problem it was borne in on him that a visit to Annecy was his only remaining move. It was not hopeful, but as he put it to himself, you never knew. He felt there was nothing more to be learned at Thirsby, but he _might_ find something at Annecy which would give him a lead. He saw Sergeant Kent and urged him to keep a close watch on Whymper’s movements, then next day he went up to town and put the case before Chief Inspector Mitchell. That astute gentleman smiled when he heard it. “Another trip to the Continent, eh, French?” he observed dryly. “Fond of foreign travel, aren’t you?” “It’s what you say, sir,” French answered, considerably abashed. “I admit it’s not hopeful, but it’s just a possibility. However, if you think it best I shall go back to Thirsby, and——” “Pulling your leg, French,” the Chief Inspector broke in with a kindly smile. “I think you should go to France. You mayn’t learn anything about the tragedy, but you’re pretty certain to find out Whymper’s business and either convict him or clear him in your mind.” That evening at 8.30 French left Victoria and early next morning reached Paris. Crossing the city, he bathed and breakfasted at the Gare de Lyon, and taking the 8.10 a.m. express, spent the day watching the great central plain of France roll past the carriage windows. For an hour or two after starting they skirted the Seine, a placid, well wooded stream garnished with little towns and pleasant villas. Then through the crumpled up country north of Dijon and across more plains, past Bourg and Amberieu and through the foothills of the Alps to Culoz and Aix. At Aix French changed, completing his journey on a little branch line and reaching Annecy just in time for dinner. He drove to the Splendid, where Whymper had stayed, a large hotel looking out across a wide street at the side of which came up what looked like a river, but which he afterwards found was an arm of the lake. Scores of little boats lay side by side at the steps along the road, and on the opposite side of the water stood a great building which he saw was the theatre, with behind it, the trees of a park.