Dessaure at once looked up Brissard and told him of his discovery. Together they returned to the house, and Brissard succeeded in gaining admittance to the rooms only just vacated by the Morants, where every scrap of paper in the rooms and wardrobe was carefully collected. Brissard had an interview with the proprietor of the place, and then hurried to police headquarters, from where men were sent to the different steamship offices to look over the bookings. The French authorities were notified, and the ships which had sailed the day before and on that day were communicated with by wireless telegraphy. Meanwhile, Brissard had found the expressman who had removed Morant's belongings, taking them to the docks of the French line of steamers labelled for the ship sailing on the following day. This was getting close. With the assistance of the American police it was now ascertained that the luggage and its owners were booked under the name of "Martin," and a man was detailed to watch the trunks in case M. "Martin" changed his mind about sailing. Next morning, M. Brissard, Dessaure, and two American detectives, armed with a provisional warrant, awaited the appearance of the much-wanted man. The ship was to sail at noon, and shortly after ten a well-dressed woman walked slowly into the receiving dock and inquired the way to that portion of the pier where was located the letter "M" (all luggage being collected under the initial of its owner). She was directed some distance ahead, and, arriving at the location, inspected some of the luggage. Evidently satisfied that everything belonging to her was there, she slowly walked away and out of the dock, apparently not caring to board the ship so early. Detective Brissard watched this woman closely, but not quite closely enough. It was Mme. Morant, and she had seen him and recognised him, having been sent by her husband to see if the coast seemed clear for their flight. On reaching the street she took a handkerchief from a bag hanging at her waist and passed it across her face, an action which M. Morant observed from the window of a restaurant opposite, where he was anxiously watching. Brissard, not knowing he had been recognised, or that Morant had heard of the inquiries being made about him, followed Mme. Morant to the Elevated Railway. As she had still some two hours before sailing-time the detective naturally supposed she was going to meet her husband. Mme. Morant left the train at Forty-Second Street, and made her way to the Grand Central Railway Station. There she turned round suddenly, as if looking for someone, and the detective instinctively felt that the woman knew she was being followed. Throwing discretion to the winds, Brissard now deliberately approached, and, raising his hat, said:-- "Good morning, Mme. Morant." The woman smiled sweetly. "I seem to know your face," she replied, "but for the life of me I cannot recall your name."