As for any knowledge of his current circumstances or whereabouts, I must concede I am at a loss, though I feel I cannot in good faith close my letter without making mention of a curious coincidence. Not long ago, an acquaintance of mine, Monsieur DuLac, who once served as Lord Allenham’s tutor of mathematics, remarked that he had seen a man quite similar in appearance to his former pupil at the Café de la Cloche at the Palais-Royal. Although bearing a most striking resemblance, his manner and speech were unlike that of an English lord. I am afraid I know no more than that, and I fear I have troubled you too much with these irrelevant scribbles. Should you wish to enquire of Monsieur DuLac, he and I are frequently to be met with in the afternoons at the Café de la Cloche, where it would be my great pleasure to receive any correspondence your ladyship should condescend to direct to your servant,

Jean-Baptiste Mariot

At first I knew not what to make of Monsieur Mariot’s tardy response. Upon my arrival in Paris I might have mortgaged my soul to have received such intelligence, yet now my head seemed incapable of fathoming it. I stood for a moment simply staring at the words, knitting my brows together. What precisely did the author of this news wish to imply? I read it once more as I paced a circle about the floor. Nonsense, I concluded, abruptly folding it and thrusting it into my pocket. The information offered was so scant, so faint, so flimsy as to be deemed absurd. I felt myself quite irked by it. I attempted to carry on with my tasks, but found myself fastened firmly in place. The letter’s implications began to seep steadily into my mind. You see, friends, once they had been aired, once the gate had been opened to this possibility, I knew I would be incapable of shutting it behind me. I simply could not dismiss it as a mere anecdote, never to be pondered again.

I chewed upon my lip and allowed my hand to creep back inside my pocket and retrieve the curious packet. I considered it. Perhaps this encounter was not so incidental as Monsieur Mariot had supposed, but contained some further germ of information? Indeed, perhaps this Monsieur DuLac was half-blind or -deaf and failed to see or hear correctly. Furthermore, if this stranger was met with at the Café de la Cloche once before, was there not some possibility that he might be discovered there again? Might I not determine the truth with my own eyes and ears?