Captain Stewart drew a short breath and sat down, abruptly, in a near-by chair, for all at once his knees had begun to tremble under him.  He was conscious of a great and blissful wave of relief and well-being, and he wanted to laugh.  He wanted so much to laugh that it became a torture to keep his face in repose.

So Ste. Marie had left no word behind him, and the danger was past!

With a great effort he looked up from where he sat to Richard Hartley, who stood anxious and frowning before him.

“Forgive me for sitting down,” he said, “and sit down yourself, I beg.  I’m still very shaky from my attack of illness.  Ste. Marie—­Ste. Marie has disappeared?  How very extraordinary!  It’s like poor Arthur.  Still—­a single day!  He might be anywhere for a single day, might he not?  For all that, though, it’s very odd.  Why, no.  No, I don’t think he said anything about going away.  At least I remember nothing about it.”  The relief and triumph within him burst out in a sudden little chuckle of malicious fun.  “I can think of only one thing,” said he, “that might be of use to you.  Ste. Marie seemed to take a very great fancy to one of the ladies here the other evening.  And, I must confess, the lady seemed to return it.  It had all the look of a desperate flirtation—­a most desperate flirtation.  They spent the evening in a corner together.  You don’t suppose,” he said, still chuckling gently, “that Ste. Marie is taking a little holiday, do you?  You don’t suppose that the lady could account for him?”

“No,” said Richard Hartley, “I don’t.  And if you knew Ste. Marie a little better you wouldn’t suppose it, either.”  But after a pause he said:  “Could you give me the—­lady’s name, by any chance?  Of course, I don’t want to leave any stone unturned.”

And once more the other man emitted his pleased little chuckle that was so like a cat’s mew.

“I can give you her name,” said he.  “The name is Mlle.——­ Bertrand.  Elise Bertrand.  But I regret to say I haven’t the address by me.  She came with some friends.  I will try and get it and send it you.  Will that be all right?”

“Yes, thanks!” said Richard Hartley.  “You’re very good.  And now I must be going on.  I’m rather in a hurry.”

Captain Stewart protested against this great haste, and pressed the younger man to sit down and tell him more about his friend’s disappearance, but Hartley excused himself, repeating that he was in a great hurry, and went off.

When he had gone Captain Stewart lay back in his chair and laughed until he was weak and ached from it, the furious, helpless laughter which comes after the sudden release from a terrible strain.  He was not, as a rule, a demonstrative man, but he became aware that he would like to dance and sing, and probably he would have done both if it had not been for the servant in the next room.