CHAPTER V.

The Senator, discovering to his surprise that the hotel clerk was a lady, lifted his hat.  He did not appear to be surprised, that wasn’t the Senator’s way, but he forgot what he had to say, which proved it.  While he was hesitating she looked at him humorously and said “Good evening, sir!” She was a florid person who wore this sense of humour between hard blue eyes and an iron jaw.  Momma took a passionate dislike to her on the spot.

“Oh, then you do,” said poppa.  “You parlay Anglay.  That’s a good thing I’m sure, for I know mighty little Fransay.  May I ask what sort of accommodation you can give Mrs. Wick, Miss Wick, and myself for to-night?  Anything on the first floor?”

“What rooms you require are one double one single, yes?  Certainly.  Francois, trente-cinq et trente-huit.”  She handed Francois the keys and her sense of humour disappeared in a smile which told poppa that he might, if he liked, consider her a fine woman.  He, wishing doubtless to bask in it to the fullest extent, produced his book of tickets.

“I expect you’ve seen these before,” he said, apparently for the pleasure of continuing the conversation.

[Illustration:  “I expect you’ve seen these before.”]

As her eye fell upon them a look of startled cynicism suddenly replaced the smile.  Her cynicism was paradoxical, she was so large, and sound and wholesome, and the more irritating on this account.

“You ’ave the coupons!” she exclaimed.  “Ah-a-ah!” in a crescendo of astonishment at our duplicity.  “Then I ’ave made one mistake.  Francois!  Those first floor rooms they are already taken.  But on the third floor are two good beautiful rooms.  There is also the lift—­you can use the lift.”

“I can’t dispute with a lady,” said poppa, “but that is singular.  I should prefer those first floor rooms which were not taken until I mentioned the coupons.”

“Sare!”

The lady’s eye was unflinching, and poppa quailed.  He looked ashamed, as if he had been caught in telling a story.  They made a picture, as he stood there pulling his beard, of American chivalry and Gallic guile, which was almost pathetic.

“Well,” said he, “as it’s necessary that Mrs. Wick should lie down as soon as possible you might show us those third floor rooms.”

Then he recovered his dignity and glanced at Madame more in sorrow than in anger.  “Certainly, sare,” she said severely.  “Will you use the lift?  For the lift there is no sharge.”

“That,” said the Senator, “is real liberal.”  In moments of emotion poppa often dropped into an Americanism.  “If it’s a serious offer I think we will use the lift.”

At a nod from Madame, Francois went away to seek the man belonging to the lift, and after a time returned with him.  The lady produced another key, with which the man belonging to the lift unlocked the door of the brass cage which guarded it.