“And he got away?” demanded Madeline eagerly.
“Without trying. You see, he’d packed up his traps while he waited for the mail to be distributed, and he had probably kept the cab waiting to drive him back to our hotel whenever he managed to shake me off. It’s almost across from the Louvre and I didn’t see a cab, so I ran. But when I got there he was gone, bag and baggage—by a back way at that, so the hotel has lost a little to keep me company. It was a perfectly reliable hotel, you understand—one of the first few in Baedeker.”
“And have you been to the police?” asked Babe excitedly. “They ought to help you catch him.”
Billy smiled delightedly. “Then you don’t see the joke, either. The hotel people promised to inform the police, and I went to see the American consul. He put me on to the fact that I haven’t a thing against Trevelyan. I lent him the money voluntarily—pressed it upon him, in fact. The police can’t help me. I’ve ‘done’ myself.”
“You’re awfully cheerful about it,” said Madeline approvingly.
“I wasn’t at first,” laughed Billy, “but it’s such a good story—or it would be if we knew all the fine points, such as whether or not there is a sister or a countess.”
“But he telephoned the sister,” suggested Babe.
“May have telephoned thin air,” said Billy. “It was in a booth, so no one knows what he did.”
“But the countess sent the invitation,” put in Betty.
“And I saw Trevelyan mail the answer,” added Billy. “But he may have redirected it on the sly to some of his confederates. He must have at least one in Paris, I think, to manage getting the mail back and forth.”