“At this moment he is at the Duchesse de Tarascon’s country-house near Fontainebleau; I had a hurried line from him two days ago stating that he was going there on her urgent invitation. But he may return to-morrow; at all events he dines with me on the 8th, and I shall be charmed if you will do me the honour to meet him at my house.”
“It is an invitation too agreeable to refuse, and I thank you very much for it.”
Nothing worth recording passed further in conversation between Graham and the two Frenchmen. He left them smoking their cigars in the garden, and walked homeward by the Rue de Rivoli. As he was passing beside the Magasin du Louvre he stopped, and made way for a lady crossing quickly out of the shop towards her carriage at the door. Glancing at him with a slight inclination of her head in acknowledgment of his courtesy, the lady recognised his features,—
“Ah, Mr. Vane!” she cried, almost joyfully—“you are then at Paris, though you have not come to see me.”
“I only arrived last night, dear Mrs. Morley,” said Graham, rather embarrassed, “and only on some matters of business which unexpectedly summoned me. My stay will probably be very short.”
“In that case let me rob you of a few minutes—no, not rob you even of them; I can take you wherever you want to go, and as my carriage moves more quickly than you do on foot, I shall save you the minutes instead of robbing you of them.”
“You are most kind, but I was only going to my hotel, which is close by.”
“Then you have no excuse for not taking a short drive with me in the Champs Elysees—come.”
Thus bidden, Graham could not civilly disobey. He handed the fair American into her carriage, and seated himself by her side.