"Of these two?" indicating the keys of my two trunks.
"Exactly, monsieur."
"From impressions in wax which you received."
"Yes, yes, monsieur," he said, redundantly affirmative. "Have you come to ask for them? But they were delivered and paid for last night."
"By a thin-faced, middle-aged woman, with gray eyes and a white face?"
"The description is perfect. I trust the keys are to your satisfaction, and that they fit the locks."
"They fit admirably," I said, and I gave him good morning.
Annette! She was in my wife's pay; together they had conspired against me. The first practical step towards obtaining access to my boxes was taken when Barbara informed me that she had mislaid one of her keys, and borrowed my bunch; then the impressions in wax, and Annette going to the locksmith to give the order; then the packet containing the keys which Annette had secretly conveyed to my wife while my back was turned; then Barbara's complaint this morning that my cigar made her ill, and my going out to smoke. During my absence my trunk was opened and rifled. The petty little mystery was solved.
It was late when I returned to the hotel. I expected a stormy scene, it being now two hours after the time I had appointed to take Barbara to see the sights of Paris; but she was not in our rooms to reproach me. In the bedroom I noticed that two padlocks had been newly fixed to each of her trunks. I went into the office to make inquiries.
"Madame is out," said the manager.