“There,” he said, handing her the note.  “Now listen.  You are to find out certain things from your lover.  I can’t tell you how to find them out, that is your affair, but you must do it.”

“I will,” declared Alice.

“You must find them out even if he doesn’t wish to tell you.  His safety and your happiness may depend on it.”

“I understand.”

“One thing is this woman’s name and address.”

“Yes,” replied Alice, and then her face clouded.  “But if it isn’t honorable for him to tell her name?”

“You must make him see that it is honorable.  The lady herself says she is ready to testify if necessary.  At first she was afraid of implicating some person she thought guilty, but now she knows that person is not guilty.  Besides, you can say that we shall certainly know all about this woman in a few days whether he tells us or not, so he may as well save us valuable time.  Better write that down—­here is a pad.”

“Save us valuable time,” repeated Alice, pencil in hand.

“Then I want to know about the lady’s husband.  Is he dark or fair?  Tall or short?  Does Kittredge know him?  Has he ever had words with him or any trouble?  Got that?”

“Yes,” replied Alice, writing busily.

“Then—­do you know whether M. Kittredge plays tennis?”

Alice looked up in surprise.  “Why, yes, he does.  I remember hearing him say he likes it better than golf.”

“Ah!  Then ask him—­see here.  I’ll show you,” and going to a corner between the bookcase and the wall, M. Paul picked out a tennis racket among a number of canes.  “Now, then,” he continued while she watched him with perplexity, “I hold my racket so in my right hand, and if a ball comes on my left, I return it with a back-hand stroke so, using my right hand; but there are players who shift the racket to the left hand and return the ball so, do you see?”

“I see.”

“Now I want to know if M. Kittredge uses both hands in playing tennis or only the one hand.  And I want to know which hand he uses chiefly, that is, the right or the left?”

“Why do you want to know that?” inquired Alice, with a woman’s curiosity.

“Never mind why, just remember it’s important.  Another thing is, to ask M. Kittredge about a chest of drawers in his room at the Hotel des Etrangers.  It is a piece of old oak, rather worm-eaten, but it has good bronzes for the drawer handles, two dogs fighting on either side of the lock plates.”

Alice listened in astonishment.  “I didn’t suppose you knew where M. Kittredge lived.”

“Nor did I until this morning,” he smiled.  “Since then I—­well, as my friend Gibelin says, I haven’t wasted my time.”

“Your friend Gibelin?” repeated Alice, not understanding.

Coquenil smiled grimly.  “He is an amiable person for whom I am preparing a—­a little surprise.”