"Arrest him and take him straight to the Préfecture. I will follow. There, there! lose no time."
"I am already gone," said the police-officer as he ran downstairs.
The Hôtel Versailles and St. Cloud was one of the best hotels of Paris at this time, a time long antecedent to the opening of such vast caravansaries as the Louvre, the Continental, the Athenée, or the Grand. It occupied four sides of a courtyard, to which access was had by the usual gateway. The porter's lodge was in the latter, and this functionary, in sabots and shirt-sleeves, was sweeping out the entrance when the police arrived in a cab, which they ordered to wait at the door.
"On the first floor, number forty-three," replied the porter, without looking up. "Monsieur has but just returned," he went on. "Knock gently, or you may disturb him in his first sleep."
"We shall disturb him in any case," said the police-officer, gruffly. "Justice cannot wait."
"The police!" cried the porter, now recognising his visitors for the first time. "What has happened, in Heaven's name?"
"Stand aside; we have no time to gossip," replied the agent, as he passed on.
The occupant of No. 43 upon the first floor was pacing his room with agitated steps--a young man with fair complexion and light curly hair; but his blue eyes were clouded, and his fresh, youthful face was drawn and haggard. His attire, too--English, like his aspect--was torn and dishevelled, his voluminous neckcloth was disarranged, his waistcoat had lost several buttons, and there were stains--dark purple stains--upon sleeves and smallclothes.
"What has become of her?" he was saying as he strode up and down; "she has not been here; she could not have come home when we parted at the door of the Vaudeville--the bed has not been slept in. Can she have gone? Is it possible that she has left me?"
He sank into a chair and hid his face in his hands.
"It was too horrible. To see him fall at my feet, struck down just when I--Who is there?" he cried suddenly, in answer to a knock at the door.
"The police here already! What shall I do?"
"Open at once, or we shall force the door."
The young man slowly drew back the bolt and admitted the two police-agents.
"M. Gascoigne? You will not answer to your name? That is equal--we arrest you."
