Excuse me, sir... I always say Mademoiselle, even though the marriage has been celebrated...
Don't apologize... Finish quickly!" thundered Reginald Phips.
"I'm finishing, sir... I'm finishing," said Ernestine, trembling.
"I knew I had placed that coat on an armchair in the small drawing room." "Well, it wasn't there anymore!..."
"And the hat wasn't in its place either..."
"I looked everywhere for the two objects..." "I couldn't find them..."
"So it was indeed the young lady I saw getting into the taxi..."
"That coat was loose enough for her to have put it over her white dress and completely conceal it..."
Now, Reginald Phips's face appeared contorted.
Breaking the silence which, since Ernestine had fallen silent, had weighed heavily on all the actors in this scene, Mademoiselle de Saint-Enguerrand ventured to say:
Whether out of superstition or childishness, didn't Constance want to take her cablegram to her friend in Chicago herself to the telegraph office?
"She hadn't taken the form, which was still on the desk," said Reginald Phips. But that formula you saw was perhaps only a rough draft... She may have taken a clean copy with her...
Olympia, who was venturing to intervene for the first time, said in her slightly lisping, black woman's voice:
"The telegraph office is across the street, and mademoiselle has been there too often to have taken a taxi and gone to another..."
The objection was as logical as it was rigorous.

CHAPTER IV
The Veil

At that moment, there was a knock at the door. Anticipating that someone was coming to translate the feelings of his guests, who were probably moping around the laid tables, Reginald Phips, who understood that the revelation of the truth—a rather enigmatic truth, moreover—had to be delayed until the last minute, called out:
"Not a word, you others!"
Then he shouted: "Come in!" Now, it was neither Baron de Champval, nor Countess Flora Zitti, nor any deputation from the Venetian hall who appeared in the doorway, but, more modestly, a bellboy from the Mundial Palace, who said, not without betraying great emotion:
"Here is what I have just found..."
And he handed to the hotel manager, his chief patron, an object which was none other than the bride's veil, that historic and sumptuous veil from ancient Mechelen which had so harmoniously adorned the beauty of Constance Phips. However, this veil was creased, wrinkled, and torn in places. And Reginald Phips shuddered when he saw that the lace was stained with blood.
"Where did you find this?" he stammered in a toneless voice.
"I found this in the hotel annex..."
The Mundial Palace annex was a large group of buildings which, in itself, constituted a complete hotel. This annex was not included in the overall lease that the director of the Mundial Palace had granted to Reginald Phips, firstly because the main establishment was more than adequate for the use the King of Dynamos intended, and secondly because, however much the billionaire paid, the hotelier had impossible-to-avoid obligations to his regular clientele. It was therefore in the annex that he housed those of his clients whom he did not host on the billionaire's behalf.
Although its main facade did not overlook the Avenue des Champs-Élysées, this annex was almost as luxuriously appointed as the main building of the Mundial Palace.
Moreover, the latter's occupation by Reginald Phips and his guests had not harmed the annex's operation. Quite the contrary. Whether due to snobbery, curiosity, or the effect of cleverly planned publicity, the annex was completely overflowing due to the billionaire's proximity. "You found this in the annex," said the director of the Mundial Palace, addressing the bellboy.
"When and where exactly?" "You're a serious man, Emile... Explain everything to Mr. Phips."

Well, there you have it, sir, said Emile. I had just made the departure of the 347... "A very nice Englishman or American, who gave me a twenty-franc tip, just for taking his suitcase down into the taxi I had gone to fetch him..." "Just as he was about to get into the car, he said to me, handing me my tip: 'Listen, kid... Go back up to my room and see if I left a little package on the table... You can bring it back for me...'"
"But almost immediately, he changed his mind and added: After all, it's useless... It would make me miss my train... You can keep the package for yourself... It's a mechanical razor... You'll use it later, when you've grown a beard..." At that, he burst out laughing and shouted to the driver: 'Gare du Nord!... And quickly...'
The taxi drove off. "Naturally, I went straight back up to 347 to retrieve the razor... But, as I was about to enter the room, what did I find in the hallway, right in front of the door of 347?... "This lace veil torn and stained with blood... So, Mr. Director, I confess I was a little scared... I asked where you were and I came to bring you this..."
"And the razor?... Did you go into the room to see if it was there?"...
"Yes, Mr. Director... It was in the indicated place... There it is..."
Everyone present had listened, stunned, to the story of the bellhop Emile, whose sincerity was as obvious as his discovery was strange and, at first glance, inexplicable.
"We must know who the man who lived at number 347 is," exclaimed Reginald Phips.
A phone call was immediately made by the director of the Mundial Palace to The annex's secretariat brought the following response:
Room No. 347 in the annex was occupied by one James Pinkwell, from New York, an engineer... He had arrived two weeks ago...
"He just left after paying his bill, without saying where he was going or indicating where his correspondence should be forwarded..."
Asked about the man's physical appearance, the bellhop Emile described a man in his thirties, blond, with a friendly, cheerful face, and a relaxed demeanor, dressed with impeccable elegance. Did this man have any connection with the bellhop's disturbing discovery? Nothing yet allowed us to confirm this. Reginald Phips repeated in a low voice the name given by the annex's secretariat: James Pinkwell... James Pinkwell... I think I know that... James Pinkwell... And yet I don't associate any memory with that name... James Pinkwell... The ringing of the telephone interrupted the mental investigation the billionaire was undergoing. delivered without appreciable result. The King of the Dynamos hastily raised the receiver to his ear. These are the words he heard, spoken by a male voice completely unknown to him:
"Hello... Is it indeed Mr. Reginald Phips I have the honor of speaking to?"
"Yes, what do you want from me?" the billionaire replied nervously.
"I want to tell you that you can dismiss your guests, because you will never see your daughter again..." Before the unfortunate father, livid and reeling, could utter a syllable, he heard the sharp sound of the receiver being hung up.
The unknown caller, who, with a few words, had just plunged Reginald Phips into an abyss of terror and anguish, had abruptly cut off the connection. Now, it was no longer the already terribly serious question of Constance Phips's voluntary departure that was being posed. It was the the possibility of a criminal plot, of a murderous attack, which seemed likely. There was no longer any thought of deceiving the people who were waiting in the Venetian hall of the Mundial Palace for the bride's return... It was necessary to act without losing a second to try to save, if there was still time, Constance, who had fallen into an ambush, the victim of a mysterious enterprise. And the contradictory facts which had just accumulated did not allow any presumption other than that of a mortal peril threatening the new Baroness Champval. Miss Adélaïde de Saint-Enguerrand did not lose her composure. Please, Mr. Phips, she said to the overwhelmed billionaire, who, visibly, no longer knew what he was doing, please, gather your forces... While you go and notify the police headquarters, which is the most urgent thing, I will take care of the necessary arrangements with Baron de Champval and your guests... And I assure you that no one will think laughing in this case...
The young girl's tact had inspired him to choose the right words.