I walked faster and faster, my shoes pinching horribly. They were a pair I had accepted from Dodo and in truth a little tight for me. But I had taken them as the pair I had been wearing at the time of the fire were fit for nothing but housework and shopping. Finally I came to the bridge and found the Avenue Montaigne. More lovely buildings in good repair. Clearly an affluent neighborhood—an automobile with a chauffeur was idling outside one of the houses. I remembered that Reynold Bryce came from a monied family and wondered how much of his wealth came from his paintings. He really was a world away from those threadbare young men in the café. No wonder they knew so little about him and despised him as old fashioned and out of touch.

I saw the sign for the Rue François Premier and turned left, finding it hard to breathe now. Was I about to find out what had happened to Sid and Gus? I walked the length of the street and found nothing. In frustration I turned and realized that the Rue François Premier went in both directions across Avenue Montaigne. So I retraced my steps, crossed the avenue, and came at last to an attractive circle with a fountain in the middle. The houses around the circle had shrubs and trees in front of them, enclosed in wrought-iron fences, and outside one of these an enclosed black carriage was stationed as well as an automobile. As I approached I spotted a blue-uniformed policeman standing just inside the front entrance. So it appeared that I had finally found the right house. I walked boldly up the three steps and the young policeman stepped out to intercept me.

“What do you wish, madame?” he asked.

“Is this not the residence of Mr. Reynold Bryce?” I asked.

“It is.”

“Then I should like to enter. I have come from America and wish to speak with Mr. Bryce.”

“I am afraid that is not possible,” he said.

“Why? What has happened? Is something wrong?”

“I’m sorry, madame, but Mr. Bryce may not receive visitors,” he said, looking extremely uncomfortable now.

“Do you have a superior officer present?” I demanded, not about to be shoved aside for a third time. “I should like to speak with him. I have come all this way. It is most important that I see Mr. Bryce.”

“Wait here, please,” he said. “I will see if anything can be done.”