"Your pardon, mademoiselle. We were informed that a young man, Eugene Delmotte, resided here. Pardon our mistake, accept our most humble apology and permit us to depart." He moved toward the door as a signal for a general exodus.
"But 'Gene—but M. Delmotte does live here," she cried, in apprehension of the departure of these lordly and apparently affluent strangers who might aid poor 'Gene. The elderly gentleman stopped on hearing this. He regarded her with more chilling politeness.
"And you," he asked, "are Mme. Delmotte?"
"Oh, no, monsieur," she replied simply.
"His—his companion?" The Colonel flushed at his own audacity. The girl smiled forgivingly, though a little wanly.
"Oh, no, monsieur. I am only his friend and occasional model. He is in trouble, messieurs. I came to cheer him up. I live across the hall."
Colonel Sutphen, scanning the far end of the room, failed to find the object of his inquiry. The girl came forward with an explanation as the elderly noble turned a questioning face toward hers.
"He has gone out, monsieur," she said. "He will soon return. He is in debt." She hung her head in distress. Colonel Sutphen turned to Josef in surprise. The latter whispered something in his ear, which apparently satisfied him. The girl closely watched this little by-play.
"Oh, then you know about him, messieurs?" she said. "You will help him? You are his friends?" She was happy for her neighbor.
"Only a few of a great many thousands," replied Sutphen ponderously. "Tell me, mademoiselle, have you any—er—er claims upon M. Delmotte? Are you betrothed? Any claims of er—er sentiment?"