Paul would not know to whom to write. It was an odd, rather an uncomfortable thought.
The Commissioner went to a drawer and pulled out from it a portfolio filled with loose pieces of paper.
"Malfait? Malfait? Malfait?" he muttered interrogatively to himself. And at last he found what he was looking for. It was a large sheet, on which was inscribed in large round letters "Pension Malfait." There were many close lines of writing under the words. He looked down and read through all that was there.
"The Pension Malfait has a good reputation!" he exclaimed, in a relieved tone. "I gather from what you say, Monsieur,"—he gave a quick shrewd look at the Count—"that Madame and her friend did not play in a serious sense at the Casino—I mean, there was no large sum of money in question?"
Count Paul hesitated—but Sylvia thought that surely it were better to tell the truth.
"Yes," she said, "my friend did play, and she played rather high. She must have had a large sum of money in her possession when she left Lacville, unless she lost it all on the last day. But I was in Paris, and so I don't know what she did."
The Commissioner looked grave.
"Ah, but that alters the case very much!" he said. "I must request you to come with me to the Pension Malfait. We had better pursue our inquiries there. If this Madame Wolsky had a large sum of money in notes and gold, it becomes very important that we should know where she is."
They all three left the shabby little house together,
