"My suspicions are not far wrong. The young lady is safe and well at Bordeaux—and not alone."
"What does your employé say?" cried Glynn, not much comforted by the announcement.
"Read for yourself," said M. Claude, handing the telegram to him.
Glynn eagerly scanned the lines.
"Young English or American lady answering to description arrived here last evening; is staying at 'The Lion d'Or,' on the quay. Has been visited by the captain of an American steamer and another man. Father must come at once and identify her, or she may escape."
"This is some mistake," said Glynn, the words dancing before his eyes. "This cannot be Miss Lambert."
"It is most unlikely that my colleague at Bordeaux should be in error. He is one of the shrewdest employés of the sûreté. At all events we must inform the father."
He rang, and desired that M. Lambert should be recalled. Glynn was infinitely touched by the dulled, helpless look of the once bright, alert Lambert. He watched him read the telegram, and observed with surprise that his face brightened, and an expression of pleasure gleamed in his eyes.
"This is a chance, anyhow," he exclaimed. "Of course I'll go. When is the next train?"
The detective watched him curiously.