The landlord bowed over his coffee and some letters he was reading, but did not trouble to do more than half rise from his chair and sink back again, solidly. These fine gentlemen would never be clients of his, would never be instrumental in sending any one to him. Why should he put himself out?
"We've had a letter from Miss Ray this morning," Nevill announced, after a perfunctory exchange of "good days" in French.
The two young men both looked steadily at the proprietor of the hotel, as Nevill said these words. The fat man did not show any sign of embarrassment, however, unless his expectant gaze became somewhat fixed, in an effort to prevent a blink. If this were so, the change was practically imperceptible. "She had left here before six o'clock last evening, hadn't she?"
"I cannot tell you, Monsieur. It is as I answered yesterday. I do not know the time when she went out."
"You must know what she said when she went."
"On the contrary, Monsieur. The young lady did not speak with me herself. She sent a message."
"And the message was that she was leaving your hotel?"
"First of all, that she had the intention of dining out. With a lady."
Stephen and Nevill looked at each other. With a lady? Could it be possible that Mademoiselle Soubise, interested in the story, had called and taken the girl away?
"What then?" went on Caird. "She let you know eventually that she'd made up her mind to go altogether?"