"Monsieur Courage!"
"Yes!" I answered.
She gave me the note.
"There is no reply at present," she said, dropping her voice almost to a whisper. "Monsieur might open it in his cab."
She gave me a glance of warning, and I saw that the hall porter and one of his subordinates were somewhat unnecessarily near me. Then she glided away, and I drove off in my cab. Directly we had started, I tore open the envelope and read these few lines.
"DEAR MR. COURAGE,—
"I will dine with you to-night at the Café Français at eight o'clock. Please take a table upstairs. Do not ask for me again or send me any further message until we meet there.
"Yours sincerely,
"ADÈLE VAN HOYT."
At Lord's I was compelled to spend half the day hanging about the pavilion, smoking a good many more cigarettes than I was accustomed to, and finding the cricket much less interesting than usual. My own innings fortunately kept me distracted for a little more than two hours, and the effort of it soothed my nerves and did me good all round. On my way back to the hotel, I determined to forget everything except that I was going to dine alone with the one companion I would have chosen first out of the whole world. In that frame of mind I bathed, changed my clothes, and made my way a little before the appointed time to the Café Français.