Over the heads of the
excited audience, I saw the Grand Duke rise as if to retire. The other
box parties were also standing up and talking angrily.
"Why was it not announced outside the theatre?" someone shouted.
"We did not know until twenty minutes ago!" cried the manager in
accents of despair.
I hurried from the theatre and took a taxicab to the hotel of the
dancer. Running into the hall, I thrust a card in the hand of a
concierge who stood there.
"Announce to Mlle. Zara el-Khala that I must see her at once," I said.
The man smiled and returned the card to me.
"Mlle. Zara el-Khala left Paris at seven o'clock, monsieur!"
"What! I cried--left Paris!"
"But certainly. Her baskets were taken to the Gare du Nord an hour
earlier by her servant and she went off by the seven-fifty rapid for
Calais. The theatre people were here asking for her an hour ago."
I hurried to my office to obtain the latest reports of my men, I had
lost touch with them, you understand, during the latter part of the
afternoon and evening. I found there the utmost confusion. They had
been seeking me all over Paris to inform me that Zara el-Khala had
left. Two men had followed her and had telephoned from Calais for
instructions. She had crossed by the night mail for Dover. It was
already too late to instruct the English police.
For a few hours I had relaxed my usual vigilance--and this was the
result. What could I do? Zara el-Khala had committed no crime, but
her sudden flight--for it looked like flight you will agree--was
highly suspicious.
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