“You do trust me a little, then?” she asked quickly.

“Implicitly!” I answered.

“You do not mind,” she continued, “that I tell you once more that I am going out, and that I must go out alone?”

“Why, no!” I answered.  “If you do not need me, there is an end of it.”

“You are very good to me,” she said.  “Perhaps this afternoon, if you have a few minutes to spare, we might talk, eh?”

“At any time you say,” I answered.

“At four o’clock, then,” she said, “you will come here and sit with me for a little time.  Perhaps this evening, if you have nothing to do—­” she asked.

“I have nothing to do,” I interrupted promptly.

“I do not know how I shall feel,” she said, “about going out, but I would like to see you, anyhow.”

“I shall come,” I promised her.  “Some time within the next few days I must go down to Norfolk—­”

“To Norfolk?” she interrupted quickly.  “Is that far away?”

“Only a few hours,” I answered.

“You will stay there?” she exclaimed.

I shook my head.

“I think not,” I answered.  “I think I shall come back directly I have seen my brother.”

She lifted her eyes to mine.

“Why?” she whispered.

“In case I can be of service to you!” I answered.

“You are so very good, so very kind,” she said earnestly; “and to think that when I first saw you, I believed—­but that does not matter!” she wound up quickly.  “Please come to the lift with me and ring the bell.  I lose my way in these passages.”

I watched her step into the lift, her skirts a little raised, she herself, to my mind, the perfection of feminine grace from the tips of her patent shoes to the black feathers in her hat.  She waved her hand to me as the lift shot down, and I turned away....

At exactly half-past one I went down to the cafe for lunch.  The room was fairly full, but almost the first person I saw was Louis, suave and courteous, conducting a party of guests to their places.  I took my seat at my accustomed table, and watched him for a few moments as he moved about.  What a waiter he must have been, I thought!  His movements were swift and noiseless.  His eyes seemed like points of electricity, alive to the smallest fault on the part of his subordinates, the slightest frown on the faces of his patrons.  There was scarcely a person lunching there who did not feel that he himself was receiving some part of Louis’ personal attention.  One saw him in the distance, suggesting with his easy smile a suitable luncheon to some bashful youth; or found him, a moment or two later, comparing reminiscences of some wonderful sauce with a bon viveur, an habitue of the place.  Such a man, I thought, was wasted as a maitre d’hotel. He had the gifts of a diplomatist, the presence and inspiration of a genius.

I had imagined that my entrance into the room was unnoticed, but I found him suddenly bowing before my table.