They separated at once. A few minutes later Lavendale descended from the balcony and stood just out of sight upon the stairs which led into the entrance hall. The little place was full of the hubbub of cheerful laughter. On one side, however, Félanie and Lenwade were talking earnestly. Félanie had turned suddenly round to Anders, who had just arrived.
'Mr. Lenwade is going to drive me home,' she announced. 'Au revoir, all you good people!'
There was much handshaking.
'Vive la France, madame,' a young Englishman exclaimed fervently, as he bent over Félanie's fingers, 'and may you, too, live for ever!'
'If one would paint France, madame,' a painter murmured, 'I would choose you for the emblematic figure.'
There were more compliments, another little burst of patriotic fervour. Some one even struck up a few bars of the 'Marseillaise' as Félanie and her escort disappeared. Lavendale descended the last few stairs and elbowed his way good-humouredly through the group. He took Suzanne by the arm.
'Well?' he whispered, as he led her towards the doorway.
'I am not sure,' she answered under her breath, 'but I think they went to his rooms—number 25 Half Moon Street.'
Lavendale's car was a few minutes delayed. He gave the man the address almost in a whisper. Behind, pushing his way out on to the pavement, was Anders. He watched Lavendale drive off with a slightly disturbed air.
'What are you going to do?' Suzanne asked.