"I think that he has gone round to the Club. He is a man of splendid nerve, your husband. He seemed to treat the whole affair as an excellent joke."
"A joke!" she repeated blankly.
"This sort of thing happens so often in Monte Carlo," he observed, in a matter-of-fact tone. "The hotel people seem all to look upon it as in the day's work."
"I wonder if Henry had my note?" she faltered.
"He was reading one in the hall when I saw him," Draconmeyer told her. "That would be yours, I should think. He left a message at the desk which was doubtless meant for you. He has gone on to the Sporting Club for an hour and will probably be back in time to change for dinner."
Violet sat quite still for several moments. Something seemed to die slowly out of her face. Presently she rose to her feet.
"I suppose," she said, "that I am very foolish to allow myself to be upset like this."
"It is quite natural," Draconmeyer assured her soothingly. "What you should try to do is to forget the whole circumstance. You sit here brooding about it until it becomes a tragedy. Let us go down to the Club together. We shall probably see your husband there."
She hesitated. She seemed still perplexed.
"I wonder," she murmured, "could I send another message to him? Perhaps he didn't quite understand."