returned to Paris. Yes, that was certainly very odd. That is, it was either very odd or very commonplace. And in either case the family is terribly cut up about it. The boy's name was Arthur Benham, and he was rather a young fool but not downright vicious, I should think. I never knew him at all well, but I know he spent his time chiefly at the Café de Paris and at the Olympia and at Longchamps and at . Well, he just disappeared, that is all. He dropped completely out of sight between two days, and though the family has had a small army of detectives on his trail, they've not discovered the smallest clue. It's deuced odd altogether. You might think it easy to disappear like that but it's not." "No—no," said Ste. Marie thoughtfully. "No, I should fancy not. "No—no," said Ste. Marie thoughtfully. "No, I should fancy not. "This boy," he said after a pause, "I think I had seen him—had him pointed out to me—before I went away. I think it was at Henry's Bar where all the young Americans go to drink strange beverages. I am quite sure I remember his face. A weak face but not quite bad." "This boy," he said after a pause, "I think I had seen him—had him pointed out to me—before I went away. I think it was at where all the young Americans go to drink strange beverages. I am quite sure I remember his face. A weak face but not quite bad." And after another little pause he asked— And after another little pause he asked— "Was there any reason why he should have gone away? Any quarrel or that sort of thing?" "Was there any reason why he should have gone away? Any quarrel or that sort of thing?" "Well," said the other man, "I rather think there was something of the sort. The boy's uncle—Captain Stewart, middle-aged, rather prim old party—you'll have met him, I dare say—he intimated to me one day, that there had been some trivial row. You see the lad isn't of age yet, though he is to be in a few months, and so he has had to live on an allowance doled out by his grandfather, who's the head of the house—the boy's father is dead. There's a quaint old beggar, if you like!—the grandfather. He was rather a swell in the diplomatic, in his day it
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