Up in her room stood several large trunks, open.  From them had been taken a number of gowns which were scattered about or hung up for exhibition.

As she entered, quickly she selected one of the trunks whose contents were more smart than the rest and laid the gowns out most fetchingly about the room.

In the office of the hotel a few moments later, the naturalist entered.  He looked around curiously, then went to the desk and glanced over the register.  At the name “Mme Larenz, Paris, Room 22,” he paused.

For some seconds he stood thinking.  Then he deliberately walked over to a leather chair and took a prominent seat near-by in the lobby.  He had discarded his net, but still had the case which now he had shoved into his pocket.  From a table, he picked up a newspaper.

It was not long before Del Mar pulled up before the hotel and entered in his usual swagger manner.  He had returned to the bungalow, read the note and hurried over to the St. Germain.

He crossed the lobby, back to the office.  As he did so, the naturalist had his face hidden deeply in the open newspaper.  But no sooner had Del Mar passed than the newspaper fell unappreciated and he gazed after him, as he left the lobby by the back way.

It was only a few minutes after she had completed arranging her small stock so that it looked quite impressive, that Madame Larenz heard a knock at the door and recognized Del Mar’s secret code.  She opened the door and he strode in.

“I got your note,” he said briefly, coming directly to business and telling her just what he wanted done.  “Let me see,” he concluded, glancing at his watch.  “It is after three now.  She ought to be here any minute.”

Outside, Elaine drove up to the rather garish entrance of the St. Germain and one of the boys in uniform ran forward to open the door and take charge of the car.  She, too, crossed the lobby without seeing the old naturalist, though nothing escaped him.

As she passed, he started to rise and cross toward her, then appeared to change his mind.

Elaine went on out through the back of the lobby, directed by a boy, and mounted a flight of stairs, in preference to taking the lift to the second, or sort of mezzanine floor.  Down along the corridor she went, hunting for number twenty-two.  At last she found it at the end, and knocked.

Del Mar and Madame Larenz were still talking in low tones when they heard a light tap on the door.

“There she is, now,” whispered Larenz.

“All right.  Let her in,” answered Del Mar, leaping quietly to a closet.  “I’ll hide here until I get the signal.  Do just as I told you.”

Outside, at the same time, according to his carefully concocted plans, Del Mar’s car had driven up and stopped close to the side of the hotel, which was on a slight hill that brought the street level here not so far below the second story windows.  Three of his most trusted men were in the car.