Part 24 (1/2)

”And I,” she murmured. ”It will be delightful. But step gently, monsieur. He must not be awakened.”

She pointed to that closed door, and I looked steadfastly into her eyes. It was not possible that she was acting. I was convinced that she believed that her uncle was really in the next room.

”I call for you here,” I whispered, ”at half-past seven.”

”I shall be ready,” she answered, ”quite ready. You must not be late or I shall be impatient. Oh!” she added, with a little impulsive gesture, ”I am beginning to hate this place. I begin to long to escape from it forever. I look forward so much to going away,--the further the better, Capitaine Rotherby! I shall be ready when you come.

Good-bye!”

CHAPTER XVII

A VERY SPECIAL DINNER

At seven o'clock that evening I pa.s.sed through the cafe on my way to the American bar. There was already a good sprinkling of early diners there, and Louis was busy as usual. Directly he saw me, however, he came forward with his usual suave bow.

”The table in the left-hand corner,” he said, ”is engaged for monsieur. I have also taken the liberty of commanding a little dinner.”

”But I am not dining here, Louis!” I protested.

Louis' expression was one of honest surprise.

”Monsieur is serious?” he inquired. ”It is only a short time ago that I was talking with Mademoiselle Delora, and she told me that she was dining with you here.”

”I am dining with Miss Delora,” I answered, ”but I certainly did not understand that it was to be here.”

Louis smiled.

”Perhaps,” he remarked, ”mademoiselle had, for the moment, the idea of going away for dinner. If so, believe me, she has changed her mind. Monsieur will see when he calls for her.”

I pa.s.sed on thoughtfully. There was something about this which I scarcely understood. It seemed almost as though Louis had but to direct, and every one obeyed. Was I, too, becoming one of his myrmidons? Was I, too, to dine at his cafe because he had spoken the word?

I made my way to number 157 precisely at half-past seven. Felicia was waiting for me, and for a moment I forgot to ask any questions,--forgot everything except the pleasure of looking at her. She wore a black lace gown,--beautifully cut, and modelled to perfection to reveal the delicate outline of her figure,--a rope of pearls, and a large hat and veil, arranged as only those can arrange them who have learnt how to dress in Paris. She looked at me a little anxiously.

”You like me?” she asked. ”I will do?”

”You are charming,” I answered, ”You take my breath away. Indeed, mademoiselle, I have never dined with any one so charming.”

She dropped me a little curtsey. Then her face clouded over.

”There is something I have to ask,” she said, looking at me ruefully. ”Do you mind if we dine downstairs?”

”Louis has already told me that it is your wish,” I answered.

She picked up the train of her gown. I fancied that she turned away in order that I should not see her face.

”He was so disappointed,” she murmured, ”and he has been so kind, I did not like to disappoint him.”

”How is your uncle?” I asked.