"I am glad you feel as you do about the police," said the Senator earnestly, "for as a matter of fact the Prefect of Police, whom I have just been consulting about Mr. Dampier's disappearance, suggests that the Hotel Saint Ange be searched."

"Searched?" exclaimed Monsieur Poulain, staring at the Senator.

"Searched?" shrieked Madame Poulain indignantly.

"Yes," said Senator Burton quietly, and trying to speak as if a police Perquisition of a respectable hotel was the most ordinary thing in the world. "They are sending their men at eleven to-morrow morning. Let me add that they and Mrs. Dampier are most eager to study your convenience in every way. They would doubtless choose another time should eleven o'clock be inconvenient to you."

Madame Poulain was now speechless with indignation, and yes, with surprise.

When at last she did speak, her voice trembled with pain and anger.

"To think," she said, turning to her husband, and taking for the moment no notice of her American client--"to think that you and I, Poulain, after having lived here for twenty-one years and a half, should have our hotel searched by the police--as if it were the resort of brigands!" She turned to the Senator, and quietly, not without a measure of dignity, went on:--"And to think that it is you, Monsieur le Senateur, who we have always thought one of our best patrons, who have brought this indignity upon us!"

"I am very, very sorry for all the trouble you are having about this affair," said Senator Burton earnestly. "And Madame Poulain? I want to a.s.sure you how entirely I have always believed your statement concerning this strange business."

"If that is so then why all this--this trouble, Monsieur le Senateur?"

Husband and wife spoke simultaneously.

"I wonder," exclaimed the Senator, "that you can ask me such a question! I quite admit that the first twenty-four hours I knew nothing of this unfortunate young woman whose cause I championed. But now, Madame Poulain, I have learnt that all she told me of herself is true. Remember she has never faltered in the statement that she came here accompanied by her husband. I, as you know," he lowered his voice, "suppose that in so thinking she is suffering from a delusion. But you cannot expect my view to be shared by those who know her well and who are strangers to you. As I told you only this morning, we hope that towards the end of this week Mrs.

Dampier's lawyer will arrive from England."

"But what will happen then?" cried Madame Poulain, throwing up her hands with an excited, pa.s.sionate gesture. "When will this persecution come to an end? We have done everything we could; we have submitted to odious interrogatories, first from one and then from the other--and now our hotel is to be searched! None of our other clients, and remember the hotel is full, Monsieur le Senateur, have a suspicion of what is going on, but any moment the affair may become public, and then--then our hotel might empty in a day! Oh, Monsieur le Senateur"--she clasped her hands together--"If you refuse to think of us, think of our child, think of poor little Virginie!"

"Come, come, Madame Poulain!"

The Senator turned to the good woman's husband, but Poulain's usually placid face bore a look of lowering rage. The mention of his idolised daughter had roused his distress as well as anger.

"Now, Poulain, do tell your wife that there is really nothing to worry about. The police speak of you both in the very highest terms! As to the search that will take place to-morrow, it is the merest formality."

"I hope, monsieur, that you will do us the honour of being present," said Madame Poulain quickly. "We have nothing to hide, and we should far prefer you to be there."

"If such is your wish I will certainly be present," said Senator Burton gravely.

And then, as he walked away to the escalier d'honneur, he told himself that on the whole the poor Poulains had taken his disagreeable piece of news very well. Gerald was not showing his usual sense over this business: he had let his sympathies run away with him. But the Senator loved his son all the better for his chivalrous interest in poor Mrs. Dampier. It wasn't every young man who would have put everything aside in the way of interest, of amus.e.m.e.nt, and of pleasure in such a city as Paris, for the sake of an entire stranger.

As to Gerald's view of the Poulains, that again was natural. He didn't know these people with the same kindly knowledge the Senator and Daisy had of them. Gerald had been at college, and later working hard in the office of America's greatest living architect, at the time the Senator and his daughter had spent a whole winter at the Hotel Saint Ange.

It was natural that the young man should take Mrs. Dampier's word instead of the hotel-keepers'. But even so, how extraordinary was the utter divergence between the two accounts of what had happened!

For the hundredth time Senator Burton asked himself where the truth lay.

A sad change had come over Nancy Dampier in the three long days. She could not sleep, and they had to force her to eat. The interrogatories to which she had had to submit, first from one and then from another, had worn her out. When going over her story with the Consular official, she had suddenly faltered, and putting her hand to her head with a bewildered gesture, "I can't remember," she had said, looking round piteously at the Senator, "I can't remember!"

And he asked himself now whether those three words did not embody more of the truth than the poor girl would admit. Had she ever really remembered what had happened on that first evening of her arrival in Paris?

Such were Senator Burton's disconnected and troubled thoughts as, leaving the perturbed hotel-keepers, he slowly went to join his children and their guest.

To his relief, neither Daisy nor Nancy were in the salon, and his thoughts were pleasantly forced into another channel, for on the table lay a cable from some people called Hamworth, Mr. Hamworth was one of the Senator's oldest friends: also there was a pretty clever daughter who had always shown a rather special liking for Gerald....

The Hamworths were arriving in Paris at ten the next morning, and they asked the Senator and his children to join them at lunch at Bignon's.

Mingling with a natural pleasure at the thought of seeing old friends, and of getting away from all this painful business for a short time, was added a secret satisfaction at the thought that he would thus escape being present at the search of the Hotel Saint Ange.

CHAPTER XI

"I suppose we ought to start in about half an hour," said the Senator genially. They were sitting, he and Gerald, at breakfast.

Madame Poulain, with the adaptability of her kind--the adaptability which makes the French innkeeper the best in the world, always served a real "American breakfast" in the Burtons' salon.

As his son made no answer to his remark, he went on, "I should like to be at the station a few minutes before the Hamworths' train is due."

Senator Burton was sorry, very, very sorry indeed, that there was still no news of the missing man, on this third morning of Dampier's disappearance.

But he could not help feeling glad that poor little Mrs. Dampier had stayed in bed; thanks to that fact he and his children were having breakfast together, in the old, comfortable way.

The Senator felt happier than he had felt for some time. What a comfort it would be, even to Gerald and to Daisy, to forget for a moment this strange, painful affair, and to spend three or four hours with old friends!

Gerald looked up. "I'm not coming, father. You will have to make my apologies to the Hamworths. Of course I should have liked to see them. But Mrs. Dampier has asked me to be present at the search. Someone ought, of course, to be there to represent her." He jerked the words out with a touch of defiance in his voice.

"I'm sorry she did that," said the Senator coldly. "And I think, Gerald, you should have consulted me before consenting to do so. You see, our position with regard to the Poulains is a delicate one--"

"Delicate?" repeated Gerald quickly. "How do you mean, father?"

"We have known these people a long while. It is fifteen years, Gerald, since I first came to this hotel with your dear mother. I have received nothing but kindness from Madame Poulain, and I am very, very sorry that she now a.s.sociates us in her mind with this painful business."

"All I can say is, sir, that I do not share your sorrow."

The Senator looked up quickly. This was the first time--yes, the very first time that Gerald had ever spoken to him with that touch of sarcasm--some would have said impertinence--which sits so ill on the young, at any rate in the view of the old. Perhaps Gerald repented of his rude, hasty words, for it was in a very different tone that he went on:--

"You see, father, I believe the whole of Mrs. Dampier's story, and you only believe a part. If I shared your view I should think very ill of her indeed. But you, father (I don't quite know how you do it) manage to like and respect her, and to believe the Poulains as well!"

"Yes," said the Senator slowly, "that is so, Gerald. I believe that the Poulains are telling the truth, and that this poor young woman thinks she is telling the truth--two very different things, my boy, as you will find out by the time you know as much of human nature as I now do. When you have lived as long as I have lived in the world, you will know that many people have an extraordinary power of persuading themselves of that which is not--"

"But why--" asked Gerald eagerly,--"why should Mrs. Dampier wish to prove that her husband accompanied her here if he did nothing of the kind?"

And then just as he asked the question which the Senator would not have found it very easy to answer, Daisy came into the room.

"I have persuaded Mrs. Dampier to stay in bed till the search is over.

She's just worn out, poor little dear: I shall be glad when this Mr.

Stephens has arrived--she evidently has the greatest faith in him."

"I shall be glad too," said the Senator slowly: how glad he would be neither of his children knew or guessed. "And now, Daisy, I hope you won't be long in getting ready to start for the station. I should be sorry indeed if the Hamworths' train came in before we reached there."

"Father! Surely you don't want me to leave Nancy this morning of all mornings? She ought not to be alone while the search is going on. She wanted to be actually present at it, didn't she, Gerald?"

The young man nodded. "Yes, but Daisy and I persuaded her that that was not necessary, that I would be there for her. It seems that Mr. Dampier had a very large portmanteau with him. She is sure that the Poulains have got it hidden away."

"She has told Gerald exactly what it is like," chimed in Daisy.