“Unless the little man in the plaid mackintosh poured it into the coffee with the milk,” she said, “I could not possibly have imbibed it, for I haven’t spoken to another soul since we left.”
“Paris! Here we are, thank goodness. Celeste can see the things through the customs. She is quite used to it. We are going to the Ritz, I suppose!”
CHAPTER XLI
At eight o’clock in the evening Lucille knocked at the door of Lady Carey’s suite of rooms at the hotel. There was no answer. A chambermaid who was near came smiling up.
“Miladi has, I think, descended for dinner,” she said.
Lucille looked at her watch. She saw that she was a few minutes late, so she descended to the restaurant. The small table which they had reserved was, however, still unoccupied. Lucille told the waiter that she would wait for a few moments, and sent for an English newspaper.
Lady Carey did not appear. A quarter of an hour passed. The head waiter came up with a benign smile.
“Madam will please to be served?” he suggested, with a bow.
“I am waiting for my friend Lady Carey,” Lucille answered. “I understood that she had come down. Perhaps you will send and see if she is in the reading-room.”