“For Madame, Jean, as I hope.” And now I showed him the portrait on the front page of the newspaper he had brought me. “Quick,” I said, “and since you have been faithful, some day I will explain all this to you—with Madame, as I hope.”
CHAPTER XXVI
IN WHICH WE BURN ALL BRIDGES
“BUT, Monsieur,” began Jean, a few moments later, as he entered from the alley door.
“Eh bien? What then, Jean?” I demanded hastily, already leading Helena toward the door.
“This! This!” And he waved in my face a copy of the same paper which had lain on our table. “The streets are full of it. And I see, I behold—I recognize! It is Mademoiselle—that is to be Madame!”
My face flushed hotly. “As I hope, Jean.” That was all I said. “Now, please, out of our way. Is the taxi there?”
He stepped aside. I heard his voice, eager, apologetic, but knew that now no time must be lost. Vague sounds of voices came to us from the main room of the café, ordinarily so quiet. I felt, rather than knew, that soon the news would be about town. The throb of the taxi was music to my ears when I found it in the dark.