“What is the meaning of—­” he demanded—­then he recognized Harleston and stopped—­“I beg your pardon, Mr. Harleston!  I didn’t know that you were here, sir; this apartment was occupied by—­”

“Two men and a woman,” Harleston supplied.  “Well, it’s been vacated by them in deference to me.”

“I don’t understand!” said the manager.

“If you will have the baggage, which, I imagine, is in the bedrooms, examined, and give me your private ear for a moment, I’ll endeavour to explain as much as I know.”

“Certainly, Mr. Harleston,” the man replied; and, directing the others to examine the baggage, he closed the door of the drawing-room.

“First tell me who occupied this suite, when it was taken, and when they came,” said Harleston.

“One moment,” said the manager, and picking up the telephone he called the office.  “It was, the office says, occupied by a Mr. and Mrs. Davidson of New York City, who took it this afternoon about five o’clock.  They had made no reservation for it.”

“Now as to their baggage.”

The manager bowed and went out—­to return almost instantly, a puzzled expression on his face.

“Two new and cheap suit cases, each containing a couple of bricks and some waste paper,” he reported.

“Yes,” nodded Harleston, “I thought as much.  Mr. Banks, you will confer a favour on me, and possibly on the government, if you will be good enough to let this affair pass unnoticed, at least for the time.  I’ll pay for the broken table and its contents, and a proper charge for the rooms for the few hours they’ve been occupied.  I overturned the table.  As for the rest—­how I came to be here, and what became of the occupants, and why the furniture was smashed, and why I have a slight contusion in my cheek, and anything else occurring to the management as requiring explanation, just forget it, please.”

“Certainly, sir.”

“Very good!” said Harleston.  “Now wait one moment.”

He went to the telephone and asked for Mrs. Clephane’s apartment.

Her maid answered—­with the information that Mrs. Clephane had been out since five o’clock and had not yet returned.

Harleston thanked her, hung up the receiver, and turned to Banks.

“I have reason to believe that Mrs. Clephane, who is a guest of the hotel, has disappeared.  I was talking to her in the red-room at about 6:30, when I was called to the telephone.  On my return, after a brief absence, she was gone, and a frequent and thorough search on the first floor did not disclose her.  She was to have dined with me at seven-thirty.  She did not keep the engagement.  I dined alone, and had just begun the meal when a letter was handed to me asking that I dine with her in her apartment, No. 972.  I came here at once—­and was held up by two men and a woman, who sought to obtain something that they imagined was in my possession.  It wasn’t, however, and we fought; and I raised