for the reason that, if any had been taken, Scotland Yard had not been able to learn where or when. Michel had, however, an old picture of Sir Ian Hereward's young relative, as a boy of thirteen, made in Barr's school days, and discovered at a local photographer's since the murder. The detective slipped it between the leaves of his guide book, glancing from it to the face of the long-haired coachman, and comparing the features. But he could not be sure that they were the same. If this dark peasant in the wide-brimmed hat were Ian Barr in disguise, that disguise was a good one. The only thing was to watch and wait. If Ian Barr were really conducting his fiancée and her friend, he would betray himself sooner or later.
The party took three days on the way to St. Pierre de Chartreuse, though they could have accomplished the distance in less time. Perhaps they lingered on the road only because it was beautiful; perhaps because a pair of lovers dreaded to part. Michel was a vigilant spy, but he could not discover, so far, that any private interviews took place between the coachman and Nora Verney.
About five o'clock on the third day the carriage containing the two ladies and their light luggage drew up before one of the best hotels in the beautiful little village of St. Pierre de Chartreuse. Michel was near enough in his following conveyance to see them received by the landlord. No look of recognition passed between
