‘Thanks, it is delightful,’ said the Baroness coldly; her smile had vanished. ‘Who are you? I thought you were de bureau clerk.’
‘My father is the owner of this hotel. I thought there was something in the tart which ought not to have been there.’
Nella looked the Baroness full in the face. The piece of folded paper, to which a little cream had attached itself, lay under the edge of a plate.
‘No, thanks.’ The Baroness smiled her simple smile.
Nella departed. She had noticed one trifling thing besides the paper—namely, that the Baroness could pronounce the English ‘th’ sound if she chose.
That afternoon, in her own room, Nella sat meditating at the window for long time, and then she suddenly sprang up, her eyes brightening.
‘I know,’ she exclaimed, clapping her hands. ‘It’s Miss Spencer, disguised!
Why didn’t I think of that before?’ Her thoughts ran instantly to Prince Aribert. ‘Perhaps I can help him,’ she said to herself, and gave a little sigh. She went down to the office and inquired whether the Baroness had given any instructions about dinner. She felt that some plan must be formulated. She wanted to get hold of Rocco, and put him in the rack. She knew now that Rocco, the unequalled, was also concerned in this mysterious affair.
‘The Baroness Zerlinski has left, about a quarter of an hour ago,’ said the attendant.
‘But she only arrived this morning.’