"I thought of that," I answered, "but you see there's the girl. She'd know her own uncle, wouldn't she? And she told me that she had seen him on and off for years. No, he is Delora right enough! One can't tell," I continued. "Perhaps the whole thing's crooked. Perhaps the Deloras who seem to Dicky such charming people in their own country are a different sort of people on this side. At any rate, I'm off, Ralph, with that cable. I'll look you up as soon as I have found out anything."
Ralph smiled.
"I don't believe," he said, "you are sorry to have an excuse for having another turn at this affair."
"Perhaps not," I answered.
"Take the car," Ralph called out after me. "You may find it useful."
I drove first to the small hotel where I had last seen Delora. Here, however, I was confronted with a certain difficulty. The name of Delora was quite unknown to the people. I described him carefully, however, to the landlady, and she appeared to recognize him.
"The gentleman you mean was, I think, a Mr. Henriquois. He left us the day before yesterday."
"You know where he went to?" I asked.
She shook her head.
"He asked for a Continental time-table," she said, "but he gave no address, nor did he tell any one of his intentions. He was a gentleman that kept himself to himself," she remarked, looking at me a little curiously.