“You will excuse me, Madame, but there are certain formalities to be complied with. Madame speaks French, I trust?”

“Sufficiently, I think, Monsieur,” replied Katherine in that language.

“That is good. Pray be seated, Madame. I am M. Caux, the Commissary of Police.” He blew out his chest importantly, and Katherine tried to look sufficiently impressed.

“You wish to see my passport?” she inquired. “Here it is.”

The Commissary eyed her keenly and gave a little grunt.

“Thank you, Madame,” he said, taking the passport from her. He cleared his throat. “But what I really desire is a little information.”

“Information?”