Once more I took the road to Le Bourget, driving over by the first fiacre I could pick up on the stand, a much slower journey than the first, and it was nearly 3 p.m. when I reached the little hotel.
It was indeed a day of surprises, of strange emotions and moving incidents.
When I alighted and asked for "Mrs. Blair," I was answered abruptly that she was gone.
"Gone? When? How?" I cried, in utter amazement.
"Madame went very soon after monsieur," said the patronne, in high dudgeon. "She was not complimentary, she said this place was too triste, that it got on her nerves. She called me up and said I was to bring her the Indicateur. Then she must have a carriage as soon as it could be prepared to drive her to Culoz, fifteen miles away, meaning to take the train from there."
"Not to Aix?"
"Assuredly not, for when I suggested that she could more easily find the train there she told me to hold my tongue, that she knew very well what she was about, and wanted no observations from me."
To Culoz? She was bound then to follow her sister, I felt sure of it; and I was aghast, foreshadowing the new dangers opening before her.