"So we are alone, my friend."
"It has that appearance," I admitted, taking one of her cigarettes and lighting it. "I await your further instructions."
She nodded her head slowly. She seemed to be considering my attitude.
"My further instructions," she mimicked. "Oh, Monsieur Maurice, what a strange person! Ring the bell on your left, please."
I obeyed. A maid presented herself at once from the inner room. Naida spoke to her for a moment in some weird language. Then she turned towards me, yawned and stretched herself.
"Prepare for a shock," she said. "For ten minutes I leave you. You seat yourself in that easy chair, you take a whisky and soda and the evening paper, you make yourself at home. You understand?"
"Perfectly," I answered, not at all sorry for a few minutes' solitude.
"Then au revoir! But have no fear," she added, looking back with a mocking smile, "I shall return."
A quarter of an hour or so passed. I heard Naida telephoning from her bedroom and heard her voice in conversation with her maid. Then she reappeared. She was wearing a yellow creation tied around her with a girdle, Chinese sandals tied with broad yellow ribbon; and her unloosed hair was gathered together with ribbon of the same colour. She displayed herself for my admiration.
"You admire, Monsieur Maurice? You like the colour?"