You know how things work in Arcadia. And in the rest of the civilized world, too. You approach one of the Gendarmes and say:
“Excuse me, dear sir. It seems that you dropped this.”
He replies with delight:
“Yes, yes, of course! What can I do for you, dear sir?”
“What’s all that fuss about the missing kid?”
“Well, she’s not a kid. Not anymore. She’s of marriageable age. But it’s gonna be hard to find someone who would have her. She has been misbehaving since she was three. All that anger and defiance… Such a disgrace for a fine family such as Labudovichs. All the money in the world can’t fix that one. No, sir. And now she’s gone missing… It won’t well end, I’m telling you.”
“Anywhere I should start looking for her?”
“Well, she was visiting a Priest in Hamlet a lot, and…” He pauses in discomfort. “Don’t know if I should tell you this, sir…”
There’s an embarrassed look on his face. Your guts tell you this could be important information, but you are not sure if your purse is deep enough.