"I say that I know the director of the Santé and I think, if I send you to him with a strong note, he will make an exception—I think so."
"Splendid!" she cried joyfully. "And when shall I present the note?"
"To-day, at once; there isn't an hour to lose. I will write it now."
Coquenil sat down at his massive Louis XV table with its fine bronzes and quickly addressed an urgent appeal to M. Dedet, director of the Santé, asking him to grant the bearer a request that she would make in person, and assuring him that, by so doing, he would confer upon Paul Coquenil a deeply appreciated favor. Alice watched him with a sense of awe, and she thought uneasily of her dream about the face in the angry sun and the land of the black people.
"There," he said, handing her the note. "Now listen. You are to find out certain things from your lover. I can't tell you how to find them out, that is your affair, but you must do it."
"I will," declared Alice.
"You must find them out even if he doesn't wish to tell you. His safety and your happiness may depend on it."
"I understand."
"One thing is this woman's name and address."
"Yes," replied Alice, and then her face clouded. "But if it isn't honorable for him to tell her name?"