Betty sang. But she was too amused and excited to notice me.
My companion had crossed the room, and was bending over the Grey Hawk. She looked round at him surprised, mocking....
Some power came to help me across the threshold. A footman started up out of the floor and stood before me. "Where are you going?" He echoed Betty.
"I am waiting for—one of the gentlemen," I said, and I steadied myself against a chair. If Betty's song stopped, I should know we had failed.
I held my breath, as I leaned over and took my last look into the room. Our friend was leaving the grey woman. She played on. Bettina was dancing, a hand on her hip, the other twirling moustachios—playing the gallant. Such a baby she looked!
And I had done her hair like that——
"What is your fortune, my pretty maid?"
The man had come out and softly shut the door. He gave the footman a strange look and passed him something. "It's all right," he said.
The footman looked in his hand and stared. "Mais, merci—merci, monsieur." He vanished.
I went towards the stairs.