CHAPTER XV

Let us go back a little in point of time, and follow the movements
of Sir Charles Collingham.

It was barely 11 A.M. when he left the Lyons Station with his
brother, the Reverend Silas, and the military attaché, Colonel
Papillon. They paused for a moment outside the station while the
baggage was being got together.

"See, Silas," said the General, pointing to the clock, "you will
have plenty of time for the 11.50 train to Calais for London, but
you must hurry up and drive straight across Paris to the Nord. I
suppose he can go, Jack?"

"Certainly, as he has promised to return if called upon."

And Mr. Collingham promptly took advantage of the permission.

"But you, General, what are your plans?" went on the attaché.

"I shall go to the club first, get a room, dress, and all that.
Then call at the Hôtel Madagascar. There is a lady there,--one of
our party, in fact,--and I should like to ask after her. She may
be glad of my services."

"English? Is there anything we can do for her?"

"Yes, she is an Englishwoman, but the widow of an Italian--the