The Secret Adversary

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With the usual perversity of bedroom stationery, there were innumerable
envelopes and no paper. He rang. No one came. Tommy fumed at the
delay. Then he remembered that there was a good supply in Julius's
sitting-room. The American had announced his immediate departure, there
would be no fear of running up against him. Besides, he wouldn't mind if
he did. He was beginning to be rather ashamed of the things he had said.
Old Julius had taken them jolly well. He'd apologize if he found him
there.

But the room was deserted. Tommy walked across to the writing-table,
and opened the middle drawer. A photograph, carelessly thrust in face
upwards, caught his eye. For a moment he stood rooted to the ground.
Then he took it out, shut the drawer, walked slowly over to an
arm-chair, and sat down still staring at the photograph in his hand.

What on earth was a photograph of the French girl Annette doing in
Julius Hersheimmer's writing-table?