“Nine-twenty! And she couldn’t dress in less than fifteen minutes.”
“You have sent to the Hôtel du Louvre?” the Directeur questioned despairingly.
“Yes, Monsieur the Directeur. She left there two hours ago.”
Cecil coughed.
“I could have told you as much,” he remarked, very distinctly.
“What!” cried the Directeur. “You know Mademoiselle Malva?”
“She is among my intimate friends,” said Cecil smoothly.
“Perhaps you know where she is?”
“I have a most accurate idea,” said Cecil.
“Where?”