My companion explained our
errand in laborious French, supplemented by much gesticulation--it is
wonderful how the hands can help one to talk!--and after a time the
little Frenchman caught his meaning, and bustled away to get his hat
and coat, scenting a fat fee. Our first step was to be an easy one,
thanks to the severity and thoroughness of French administration, but
I admit that I saw not what we should do further, once we had
verified the date of Miss Holladay's birth. The next step must be left
to chance.
The notary unlocked the door, showed us into his office, and set out
chairs for us. Then he got down his register of births for 1876. It
was not a large book, for the births at Etretat are not overwhelming
in number.
"The name, I think you said, was Holladay?" he asked.
"Hiram W. Holladay," nodded Mr. Royce.
"And the date June 10th?"
"Yes--June 10th."
The little man ran his finger rapidly down the page, then went back
again and read the entries one by one more slowly, with a pucker of
perplexity about his lips. He turned the leaf, began farther back, and
read through the list again, while we sat watching him. At last he
shut the book with a little snap and looked up at us.
"Messieurs," he said quietly, "no such birth is recorded here. I have
examined the record for the months of May, June, and July.
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