They took a carriage to their hotel. At the office Wilson asked for the key of his room.
After some search the clerk replied, much astonished:
“But, monsieur, you have given up the room.”
“I gave it up? When?”
“This morning, by the letter your friend brought here.”
“What friend?”
“The gentleman who brought your letter.... Ah! your card is still attached to the letter. Here they are.”
Wilson looked at them. Certainly, it was one of his cards, and the letter was in his handwriting.
“Good Lord!” he muttered, “this is another of his tricks,” and he added, aloud: “Where is my luggage?”
“Your friend took it.”