Ross shook his head.
"I have been unable to determine." His voice was very low. "She has succeeded in eluding me, Madame Dumois. I am sorry to be obliged to confess it, but I was too confident. Either I have underestimated her intelligence and inadvertently put her on the defensive, or circumstances have combined to effect her disappearance a second time. She has slipped from my grasp."
The old lady uttered an exclamation of bitter disappointment and anger.
"Why did you not take me to her at once?" she demanded. "A fig for your conscientious scruples, sir! Had she not proved to be the young woman I am looking for, what harm could it have done?"
"None, save precipitate the notoriety you wish to avoid, Madame Dumois." He leaned toward her with a ring of passionate earnestness in his tones. "Why will you not be frank with me? What is your interest in this girl? What do you mean to do with her when you have found her?"
"I repeat, that is solely my affair." She fixed him with a shrewd glance. "I might answer your question by another, young man. What interest have you in my motive for instituting this search? You have found someone whom you believe to be the one I wish to see, yet you claim to be unable to produce her. What has my object to do with your chances of locating her once more?"
His interrogator's keen directness took the young detective by surprise, but he countered swiftly.
"Everything, my dear Madame! If I were assured that her disappearance was a purely voluntary one, resulting from inclination alone, rather than any sinister or criminal cause, I could prosecute my search along far different lines than those I am compelled to adopt, as long as I am working in the dark."
"You have not entirely lost track of your suspect, then?" The old lady leaned forward in her chair. "You will be able to find her again?"
"I firmly believe that I shall, but it may require some little time," he responded cautiously.