I asked the woman to tell me what he was like, when she gave me an accurate description of the mysterious doctor of the Via Cavezzo! So Moroni had visited her there--in Longridge Road! I tried to ascertain if Gaston Suzor had been there also, but my informant had no knowledge of him. She had never seen him walking with Gabrielle Tennison, as she had so often seen the Italian. I remained for nearly half an hour chatting, retiring, of course, when she was compelled to serve customers, and then I left her and walked round to the house in Longridge Road, where I watched a little while, and then returned to the Carlton. CHAPTER THE ELEVENTH THE ABSOLUTE FACTS "Monsieur Suzor has not yet returned," was the reply of the smart reception-clerk when I inquired for the French banker. "But he is often away for two or three days." I left the hotel, and taking a taxi to the Euston Road made a thorough examination of the high shabby house with its smoke-grimed lace curtains, a place which bore over the fan-light the words "Private Hotel." In the broad light of day it looked a most dull, uninviting place; more so even than its neighbours. There are many such hotels in the vicinity of Euston Station, and this seemed the most wretched of them all, for the windows had not been cleaned for many months, while the steps badly wanted scrubbing. After I had thoroughly examined the place in front, I went round to the back, where I discovered, to my surprise, that the house had an exit at the rear through a mews into a drab, dull street which ran parallel. Then, for the first time, the thought occurred to me that on the previous day the Frenchman might have entered by the front door and passed out by the back into the next street! I waited an hour idling about, and then I went boldly to the door, and knocked. A black-haired, slatternly woman in a torn and soiled apron opened the door slightly. "We're full up," she snapped before I could speak. "We haven't any room to let." "I don't require a room," I replied politely. "I've called to see the French gentleman you have staying here--Monsieur Suzor." I thought she started at mention of the name, for she still held the door ajar as though to prevent me from peering inside. "We've got no French gent a-staying 'ere," she replied. "You've made a mistake." "But I saw him enter here last night." "You must 'ave been mistaken," the woman said. "'E might 'ave gone next door. They 'ave a lot of visitors." "But you are full up--eh?" "Yes--with our reg'lar residents," she answered promptly. But from her nervousness of manner I knew she was not telling the truth. I was positive that Suzor had entered there, but she denied all knowledge of him. Why? Without a doubt, while I had waited for him to emerge, he had passed out by the back way. If so, was it possible that he had seen and recognized me, and wished to escape unseen?