A Maker of History | Page 8

matter
short, ten days have now elapsed and he has not yet returned.
"I have been to the Embassy, to the police, and to the Morgue.
Nowhere have I found the slightest trace of him. No one seems to take
the least interest in his disappearance. The police shrug their shoulders,
and look at me as though I ought to understand--he will return very
shortly they are quite sure. At the Embassy they have begun to look
upon me as a nuisance. The Morgue--Heaven send that I may one day
forget the horror of my hasty visits there. I have come to the conclusion,
Andrew, that I must search for him myself. How, I do not know; where,
I do not know. But I shall not leave Paris until I have found him.
"Andrew, what I want is a friend here. A few months ago I should not
have hesitated a moment to ask you to come to me. To-day that is
impossible. Your presence here would only be an embarrassment to
both of us. Do you know of any one who would come? I have not a
single relative whom I can ask to help me. Would you advise me to
write to Scotland Yard for a detective, or go to one of these agencies? If
not, can you think of any one who would come here and help me, either
for your sake as your friend, or, better still, a detective who can speak
French and whom one can trust? All our lives Guy and I have
congratulated ourselves that we have no relation nearer than India. I am
finding out the other side of it now.
"I know that you will do what you can for me, Andrew. Write to me by
return.
"Yours in great trouble and distress,
"PHYLLIS POYNTON."
She sealed and addressed her letter, and saw it despatched. Afterwards
she crossed the courtyard to the restaurant, and did her best to eat some
dinner. When she had finished it was only half-past eight. She rang for
the lift and ascended to the fourth floor. On her way down the corridor
a sudden thought struck her. She took a key from her pocket and

entered the room which her brother had occupied.
His things were still lying about in some disorder, and neither of his
trunks was locked. She went down on her knees and calmly proceeded
to go through his belongings. It was rather a forlorn hope, but it seemed
to her just possible that there might be in some of his pockets a letter
which would throw light upon his disappearance. She found nothing of
the sort, however. There were picture postcards, a few photographs,
and a good many restaurant bills, but they were all from places in
Germany and Austria. At the bottom of the second trunk, however, she
found something which he had evidently considered it worth while to
preserve carefully. It was a thick sheet of official-looking paper,
bearing at the top an embossed crown, and covered with German
writing. It was numbered at the top "seventeen," and it was evidently an
odd sheet of some document. She folded it carefully up, and took it
back with her to her own room. Then, with the help of a German
dictionary, she commenced to study it. At the end of an hour she had
made out a rough translation, which she read carefully through. When
she had finished she was thoroughly perplexed. She had an
uncomfortable sense of having come into touch with something wholly
unexpected and mysterious.
"What am I to do?" she said to herself softly.
"What can it mean? Where on earth can Guy--have found this?"
There was no one to answer her, no one to advise. An overwhelming
sense of her own loneliness brought the tears into her eyes. She sat for
some time with her face buried in her hands. Then she rose up, calmly
destroyed her translation with minute care, and locked away the
mysterious sheet at the bottom of her dressing-bag. The more she
thought of it the less, after all, she felt inclined to connect it with his
disappearance.
CHAPTER IV
THE FALLING OF THE HANDKERCHIEF

Monsieur Albert looked over her shoulder for the man who must surely
be in attendance--but he looked in vain.
"Mademoiselle wishes a table--for herself alone!" he repeated
doubtfully.
"If you please," she answered.
It was obvious that Mademoiselle was of the class which does not
frequent night cafés alone, but after all that was scarcely Monsieur
Albert's concern. She came perhaps from that strange land of the free,
whose daughters had long ago kicked over the barriers of sex with the
same abandon that Mademoiselle Flossie would display the soles of her
feet a few hours later in their