“Understand, Monsieur,” the secretary continued, after a moment, “that I knew nothing whatever of all this until late that afternoon—­that is, Tuesday afternoon about five o’clock.  I was engaged all day upon some important work in my own office, and had had no occasion to see Monsieur Boissegur since a word or so when he came in at ten o’clock.  My attention was called to the affair finally by his stenographer, Monsieur Netterville, who came to me for instructions.  He had finished the letters and the ambassador had not returned to sign them.  At this point I began an investigation, Monsieur, and the further I went the more uneasy I grew.

“Now, Monsieur, there are only two entrances to the embassy—­the front door, where a servant is in constant attendance from nine in the morning until ten at night, and the rear door, which can only be reached through the kitchen.  Neither of the two men who had been stationed at the front door had seen the ambassador since breakfast, therefore he could not have gone out that way. Comprenez?  It seemed ridiculous, Monsieur, but then I went to the kitchen.  The chef had been there all day, and he had not seen the ambassador at all.  I inquired further.  No one in the embassy, not a clerk, nor a servant, nor a member of the ambassador’s family had seen him since he left his office.”

Again he paused and ran one hand across his troubled brow.

“Monsieur,” he went on, and there was a tense note in his voice, “the ambassador of France had disappeared, gone, vanished!  We searched the house from the cellar to the servants’ quarters, even the roof, but there was no trace of him.  The hat he usually wore was in the hall, and all his other hats were accounted for.  You may remember, Monsieur, that Tuesday was cold, but all his top-coats were found in their proper places.  So it seems, Monsieur,” and repression ended in a burst of excitement, “if he left the embassy he did not go out by either door, and he went without hat or coat!”

He stopped helplessly and his gaze alternated inquiringly between the benevolent face of the chief and the expressionless countenance of Mr. Grimm.

“If he left the embassy?” Mr. Grimm repented.  “If your search of the house proved conclusively that he wasn’t there, he did leave it, didn’t he?”

Monsieur Rigolot stared at him blankly for a moment, then nodded.

“And there are windows, you know,” Mr. Grimm went on, then:  “As I understand it, Monsieur, no one except you and the stenographer saw the ambassador after ten o’clock in the morning?”

“Oui, Monsieur.  C’est—­” Monsieur Rigolot began excitedly.  “I beg pardon.  I believe that is correct.”

“You saw him about ten, you say; therefore no one except the stenographer saw him after ten o’clock?”

“That is also true, as far as I know.”

“Any callers?  Letters?  Telegrams?  Telephone messages?”