I resumed impatiently.  “You put his message in your slipper?”

She nodded.  “Yes,” she said, “in the toe of it.  There was barely chance to do that.  You see, our skirts are full and wide; there are curtains in the East Room; there was wine by this time; there was music; so I effected that much.  But when you took the slipper, you took Van Zandt’s note!  You had it.  It was true, what I told Pakenham before the president—­I did not then have that note! You had it.  At least, I thought you had it, till I found it crumpled on the table the next day!  It must have fallen there from the shoe when we made our little exchange that night.  Ah, you hurried me.  I scarce knew whether I was clad or shod, until the next afternoon—­after I left you at the White House grounds.  So you hastily departed—­to your wedding?”

“So small a shoe could not have held an extended epistle, Madam,” I said, ignoring her question.

“No, but the little roll of paper caused me anguish.  After I had danced I was on the point of fainting.  I hastened to the cover of the nearest curtain, where I might not be noticed.  Senor Yturrio of Mexico was somewhat vigilant.  He wished to know what Texas planned with England.  He has long made love to me—­by threats, and jewels.  As I stood behind the curtain I saw his face, I fled; but one shoe—­the empty one—­was not well fastened, and it fell.  I could not walk.  I reached down, removed the other shoe with its note, hid it in my handkerchief—­thank Providence for the fashion of so much lace—­and so, not in wine, Monsieur, as you may believe, and somewhat anxious, as you may also believe, expecting to hear at once of an encounter between Van Zandt and the Mexican minister, Senor Almonte, or his attache Yturrio, or between one of them and some one else, I made my adieux—­I will warrant the only woman in her stocking feet who bowed for Mr. Tyler at the ball that night!”

“Yes, so far as I know, Madam, you are the only lady who ever left the East Room precisely so clad.  And so you got into your own carriage—­alone—­after a while?  And so, when you were there you put on the shoe which was left?  And so Yturrio of Mexico got the other one—­and found nothing in it!  And so, he wanted this one!”

“You come on,” she said.  “You have something more than a trace of brain.”

“And that other shoe, which I got that night?”

Without a word she smoothed out a bit of paper which she removed from a near-by desk, and handed it to me. “This was in yours!  As I said, in my confusion I supposed you had it.  You said I should go in a sack.  I suppose I did!  I suppose I lost my head, somewhere!  But certainly I thought you had found the note and given it to Mr. Calhoun; else I should have driven harder terms with him!  I would drive harder terms with you, now, were I not in such haste to learn the answer to my question!  Tell me, were you married?”