“I do not,” I admitted.  “Your business will be to find out.”

“And what do I get,” the man asked, “if I do discover the staying place of that gentleman?”

“A ten-pound note,” I answered, “down on the nail.”

A slow smile suffused Fritz’s face.

“I will tell you now,” he said.  “You have the ten pounds, so?”

“I have it ready,” I answered, rising to my feet.  “Come on, Fritz, you are a brave fellow, and I promise you it shall not end at ten pounds.”

“You are serious?” Fritz persisted.  “This is not a joke?”

“Not in the least,” I assured him.  “Why should you think so?”

The smile on the man’s face broadened.

“Because,” he said, “that gentleman—­he is staying here, in this very hotel.”

For a moment I was silent.  The thing seemed impossible!

“How on earth do you know that, Fritz?” I asked.

“I will tell you,” Fritz answered.  “There was a night, not long ago, when he did come to the restaurant with the Chinese gentleman.  They talked for a long time, and then I was sent for into the private room where they were taking dinner.  The gentleman he wrote a note and he gave it to me.  He said, ’You will take a hansom cab and you will drive to Claridge’s Hotel.  You will give this to the cashier, and he will hand you a small parcel which you will bring here.’  I told him that I could not leave my post, but he had already seen the proprietor.  So I came to this very hotel with that note, and I did take back to the restaurant a small parcel wrapped in brown paper.”

“Fritz,” I said, “sit down in that easy-chair and help yourself to whiskey and soda.  I am sorry that I have not beer, but you must do the best you can with our own national drink.  Take a cigar, too.  Make yourself quite comfortable.  I am going downstairs to the reception office.  If I find that what you have told me is true, there will be two five-pound notes in my hand for you when I come back.”

“So!” Fritz declared, accepting my hospitality with calm satisfaction.

I descended into the hall of the hotel and made my way to the reception office.  The one clerk on duty was reading a novel, which he promptly laid aside at my approach.  It occurred to me that my task, perhaps, might not prove so easy, as Delora would scarcely be staying here under his own name.

“I wanted to ask you,” I said, “if you have a gentleman here named Delora.”

The man shook his head.

“There is no one of that name in the hotel, sir,” he answered.

“I scarcely expected that there would be,” I remarked.  “The fact is, the gentleman whom I want to find, and whom I know is or was staying here, is using another name which I have not heard.  You know who I am?”

“Certainly, Captain Rotherby!” the man replied.  “You are Lord Welmington’s brother.”

“You will understand, then,” I said, “that if I ask questions which seem to you impertinent, I do so because the matter is important, and not from any idle curiosity.”