CHAPTER VIII
THE HOTEL DU CERCLE
Bruce did not go to Bournemouth.
He quitted London by the next mail, and after a wearisome journey of thirty-six hours, found himself in the garden courtyard of the Hotel du Cercle at Monte Carlo.
Refreshed by a bath and an excellent déjeuner, he decided to go quietly to work and search the visitors’ book for himself without asking any questions. The Hotel du Cercle was a popular resort, and it took him some time, largely devoted to the elucidation of hieroglyphic signatures, before he was quite satisfied that no one even remotely suggestive of the name of Sydney H. Corbett had recorded his presence in the hotel since the first week in November.
The barrister, for the first time, began to doubt Mrs. Hillmer. Twice had her statements not been verified by facts. It was with an expression of keen annoyance at his own folly in trusting so much to a favorable impression that he turned to the hotel clerk to ask if the name of Mr. Sydney H. Corbett was familiar to him.
The courteous Frenchman screwed up his forehead into a reflective frown before he answered: “But yes, monsieur. Me, I have not seen the gentleman, but he exists. There have been letters—two, three letters.”
“Ah, letters! Has he received them?”