“What has happened to Madame?”

“Nothing.  I have a letter,” she murmured, and I saw it appear between the fingers of her extended hand, in a very white envelope which I tore open impatiently.  It consisted of a few lines only.  It began abruptly: 

“If you are gone to sea then I can’t forgive you for not sending the usual word at the last moment.  If you are not gone why don’t you come?  Why did you leave me yesterday?  You leave me crying—­I who haven’t cried for years and years, and you haven’t the sense to come back within the hour, within twenty hours!  This conduct is idiotic”—­and a sprawling signature of the four magic letters at the bottom.

While I was putting the letter in my pocket the girl said in an earnest undertone:  “I don’t like to leave Madame by herself for any length of time.”

“How long have you been in my room?” I asked.

“The time seemed long.  I hope Monsieur won’t mind the liberty.  I sat for a little in the hall but then it struck me I might be seen.  In fact, Madame told me not to be seen if I could help it.”

“Why did she tell you that?”

“I permitted myself to suggest that to Madame.  It might have given a false impression.  Madame is frank and open like the day but it won’t do with everybody.  There are people who would put a wrong construction on anything.  Madame’s sister told me Monsieur was out.”

“And you didn’t believe her?”

“Non, Monsieur.  I have lived with Madame’s sister for nearly a week when she first came into this house.  She wanted me to leave the message, but I said I would wait a little.  Then I sat down in the big porter’s chair in the hall and after a while, everything being very quiet, I stole up here.  I know the disposition of the apartments.  I reckoned Madame’s sister would think that I got tired of waiting and let myself out.”

“And you have been amusing yourself watching the street ever since?”

“The time seemed long,” she answered evasively.  “An empty coupe came to the door about an hour ago and it’s still waiting,” she added, looking at me inquisitively.

“It seems strange.”

“There are some dancing girls staying in the house,” I said negligently.  “Did you leave Madame alone?”

“There’s the gardener and his wife in the house.”

“Those people keep at the back.  Is Madame alone?  That’s what I want to know.”

“Monsieur forgets that I have been three hours away; but I assure Monsieur that here in this town it’s perfectly safe for Madame to be alone.”

“And wouldn’t it be anywhere else?  It’s the first I hear of it.”

“In Paris, in our apartments in the hotel, it’s all right, too; but in the Pavilion, for instance, I wouldn’t leave Madame by herself, not for half an hour.”

“What is there in the Pavilion?” I asked.

“It’s a sort of feeling I have,” she murmured reluctantly . . .  “Oh!  There’s that coupe going away.”