"But, madame"—Clemence fluttered in agitation—"Madame promised to take me to America."
"Telephone for the rooms for Miss Susan Lenox," said Susan.
She was rapidly taking off her dress. "If I took you to
America I should have to let you go as soon as we landed."
"But, madame—" Clemence advanced to assist her.
"Please pack the trunk," said Susan. "I am leaving here at once."
"I prefer to go to America, even if madame——"
"Very well. I'll take you. But you understand?"
"Perfectly, madame——"
A sound of hurrying footsteps and Palmer was at the threshold. His eyes were wild, his face distorted. His hair, usually carefully arranged over the rapidly growing bald spot above his brow, was disarranged in a manner that would have been ludicrous but for the terrible expression of his face. "Go!" he said harshly to the maid; and he stood fretting the knob until she hastened out and gave him the chance to close the door. Susan, calm and apparently unconscious of his presence, went on with her rapid change of costume. He lit a cigarette with fingers trembling, dropped heavily into a chair near the door. She, seated on the floor, was putting on boots.
When she had finished one and was beginning on the other he said stolidly:
"You think I did it"—not a question but an assertion.