“No, I shan’t, Charlie. I want to stop myself.”
“Thanks, old chap! See you at dinner,” and Charlie strolled off with a reassured air.
Sir Roger sat and thought.
“I see his game,” he said to himself at last, “but I’m hanged if I see hers. Why does she want to get back to England? Perhaps if I delay her as much as I can, she’ll tell me. Hanged if I don’t! Anyhow I’m glad to see old Charlie getting convalescent.”
The next morning the whole party left Cannes by the early train. The Bellairs, the Deanes, and Charlie Ellerton travelled together. Laing announced his intention of following by the afternoon train.
“Oh,” said Lady Deane, “you’ll get to Paris sooner than we do.” Dora looked gloomy; so did Charlie, after a momentary, hastily smothered smile.
The porter approached and asked for an address. They told him the Grand Hotel, Paris.
“If anything comes to-day, I’ll bring it on,” said Laing.
“Yes, do; we shall have no address before Paris,” answered General Bellairs.
They drove off, and Laing, feeling rather solitary, returned to his cigar. An hour later the waiter brought him two telegrams, one for Dora and one for Charlie, he looked at the addresses.