"Good gracious!" she groaned. "He has dragged her there——"
"No, no, Madame, it is not so bad as that," Céline soothed her. "Madame la Jeune Mariée appeared to go with Monsieur of her own will. She showed no fear. She was only a little quiet—a little strange. It must have been arranged at the theatre, what was to happen, for I was with them in a car—but yes, a car, no taxi!—which Monsieur had ordered to wait at the stage door. I sat, not with the chauffeur, but inside on one of the little fold-up seats. The two did not speak at all, Madame, not once, till we had arrived here, at the hotel. Then Mademoiselle—I mean Madame Garth—said, 'I should like Céline to come with me.' 'Very well, let her come,' Monsieur answered. That was all. I went with them. Monsieur asked for his key. It was given him. We were taken up in the ascenseur to this floor. But instead of turning to the right, we turned left. Monsieur unlocked the door, switched on lights, and stood aside for Madame his wife to pass. Even me, he let go in before him. Then he followed and shut the door."
"What then?" breathed Mrs. Sorel.
"Mon Dieu, Madame, the suite was of a magnificence! It must be the best in the house. The suite in which they put royalties who come visiting from Europe. And not only that, the whole place has been made a garden of flowers—wonderful flowers. This Monsieur le Majeur must be, after all, though he does not look it, a millionaire!"
"He is far from being a millionaire," sneered Mums. "He hasn't a sou, so far as I've heard. He'll probably charge all this wild extravagance to us. He's capable of it—capable of anything! But go on."
"Well, Madame, the suite has an entrance hall of its own, not a tiny vestibule like this one. The hall has many pots of gorgeous azaleas, of colours like a sunrise in paradise. Madame la Jeune Mariée walked into the salon. The husband went also. But, me, I stood outside waiting. I could see into the room, however. I chose my place for that purpose, to see! A lovely salon of pearl grey and soft rose. And the flowers there were all roses, different shades of pink. There were many, some growing in pots, very tall; some cut ones in crystal vases and jars: and on a table, a marvellous bowl, illuminated, with flowers floating on the surface of bright water. Also, Madame, there were presents, jewels in cases. If these, as Madame says, are to be charged to her, Mon Dieu, it will be a disaster!"
"What were the presents?" The question asked itself, out of the turmoil that was Mums' mind. But behind the turmoil a voice seemed crying, "Why do you stop here talking of trifles, instead of rushing to save your wretched child?"
But Céline was replying. After all, what use to go, since the door of the suite would be closed, and one could not shriek and beat upon the panels for the whole world to hear!
"There was a large case with a double row of pearls. It must be, I think, not a string, but a rope. There was also a lovely thing for the hair, a wreath of laurel leaves made of green stones, doubtless emeralds. And there was a pendant, a star of diamonds with a great cabochon sapphire—Mademoiselle's beloved jewel!—in the centre. There may have been other things, but those were all I remarked. I saw them from the doorway. Yet, if Madame will believe me, la Jeune Mariée did not regard them. Neither did Monsieur draw her attention to his gifts—no, not by gesture nor word."
"She must have said something!" cried Mary.