The abduction must have taken place in broad daylight, on a frequented street, in the very heart of the town. How? And at what spot? Not a cry was heard; not a suspicious action had been seen. The shopkeeper described the automobile as a royal-blue limousine of twenty-four horse-power made by the firm of Peugeon & Co. Inquiries were then made at the Grand-Garage, managed by Madame Bob-Walthour, who made a specialty of abductions by automobile. It was learned that she had rented a Peugeon limousine on that day to a blonde woman whom she had never seen before nor since.
“Who was the chauffeur?”
“A young man named Ernest, whom I had engaged only the day before. He came well recommended.”
“Is he here now?”
“No. He brought back the machine, but I haven’t seen him since,” said Madame Bob-Walthour.
“Do you know where we can find him?”
“You might see the people who recommended him to me. Here are the names.”
Upon inquiry, it was learned that none of these people knew the man called Ernest. The recommendations were forged.
Such was the fate of every clue followed by the police. It ended nowhere. The mystery remained unsolved.
Mon. Gerbois had not the strength or courage to wage such an unequal battle. The disappearance of his daughter crushed him; he capitulated to the enemy. A short announcement in the Echo de France proclaimed his unconditional surrender.