By this time Jacques had filled his tray, had folded up the shining white table-cloth and placed it over his pyramid of plates.
"Mademoiselle is too modest," he said, moving towards the door, but still watching Pauline intently.
The creature's ears seemed literally to twitch with greed of news as he crossed the great quiet room.
Pauline was speaking to herself. "It's queer," she said. "I do not like that. Everything has gone wrong to-day. First we nearly missed the train. Then on the boat we were all seasick. Then the douanier was a suspicious fool. Then at Boulogne we got on the wrong train and lost Lord Ellerdine and Lady Attwill——"
A little hard chuckle of amusement came from the retiring waiter, and as Pauline turned to him in indignation a distant voice called her name:
"Pauline!"
"Madame!"
"Good night, mademoiselle," the waiter said, one hand supporting the heavy tray, the other upon the handle of the door. "Good night, mademoiselle. Remember that Jock from Ecclefechan has a good memory."
Pauline was trembling, but she turned to the fellow. "Good night, Jock from——" She spluttered in her throat, laughed artificially, shut the door after the man, and then turned eagerly towards the door which led to Mrs. Admaston's bedroom.
There was a note of tremendous relief in her voice as she cried out "Madame!" once more.