II
The five dogs, the three maids, and the French orphan were installed in the largest suite at the Ritz, and Rags tumbled lazily into a steaming bath, fragrant with herbs, where she dozed for the greater part of an hour. At the end of that time she received business calls from a masseuse, a manicure, and finally a Parisian hair-dresser, who restored her hair-cut to criminal's length. When John M. Chestnut arrived at four he found half a dozen lawyers and bankers, the administrators of the Martin-Jones trust fund, waiting in the hall. They had been there since half past one, and were now in a state of considerable agitation.
After one of the maids had subjected him to a severe scrutiny, possibly to be sure that he was thoroughly dry, John was conducted immediately into the presence of m'selle. M'selle was in her bedroom reclining on the chaise-longue among two dozen silk pillows that had accompanied her from the other side. John came into the room somewhat stiffly and greeted her with a formal bow.
"You look better," she said, raising herself from her pillows and staring at him appraisingly. "It gave you a color."
He thanked her coldly for the compliment.
"You ought to go in every morning." And then she added irrelevantly: "I'm going back to Paris to-morrow."
John Chestnut gasped.
"I wrote you that I didn't intend to stay more than a week anyhow," she added.
"But, Rags——"
"Why should I? There isn't an amusing man in New York."