A man, short of stature and well-dressed, had lounged leisurely by with a cigarette, but scarcely had he walked a dozen yards beyond the cafe when I jumped up, and rushing along, accosted him. It was Ivan Renouf. He turned sharply at mention of his name, regarding me with an inquiring glance, but next second expressed pleasure at our meeting. Together we returned to the cafe, and chatted amicably over a mazagran. Presently, after we had been speaking of our last interview at Mrs Laing's, I asked him the truth about his sudden dismissal from her service. "What your wife told you was quite correct," he answered, with a mysterious smile; "I was detected." "You are generally too wary to be caught by those upon whom you are keeping observation," I remarked. Slowly he selected a fresh cigarette, and laughing carelessly, answered,-- "It was not by accident but by design that I was caught. My object was already attained, and I desired to be discharged at once from madame's service." "She left London almost immediately," I said. "Yes, I am quite aware of that. It was best for her," he observed, rather abruptly. "My wife also fled on the same day," I exclaimed slowly. "I haven't seen her since." At this announcement he betrayed no surprise, but merely remarked, "So I have heard." "Tell me," I urged earnestly, "do you know anything of her movements? I am endeavouring to find her, and am in utter despair." With a sharp glance at me, the great detective stirred his long glass, raised it to his lips, and took a deep draught. Then, slowly replacing it upon the table, he coldly answered,-- "I know nothing of your wife's whereabouts, m'sieur." "Am I to understand that you refuse to tell me anything?" I asked, annoyed. He shrugged his shoulders, but answered no word. I detested him instinctively. "Is it not strange that they should both have fled in this extraordinary manner?" I suggested. "Can you assign any motive whatever for their flight?" "I am really not good at conundrums," he replied indifferently. "But if you took my advice, m'sieur, you would abandon all thought of her, for at least one fact was quite plain, namely, that mademoiselle never loved you." "How do you know that?" I cried, with sinking heart, as the ghastly truth was forced upon me for the thousandth time. "From my own observations," he answered, looking straight at me across the table. "Your marriage was, I am fully aware, an unhappy one; therefore you should regard it entirely as of the past. She will never trouble you again, I can assure you." "Why?" I demanded. "Your words indicate that you are fully aware of the true facts. Tell me all, Renouf, and set my mind at rest." "I have told you all, m'sieur," he said, suddenly tossing his cigarette away, glancing at his watch and rising. "That is, I have told you all that I may. But I have an appointment," he added abruptly. "Adieu."