Even the diplomatist, who had imagined that things were going better, began to realise the game was almost up.
"Yes, damned funny of him, wasn't it?" he said feebly.
For a few moments there was an absolute silence in the room. Outside, the roar of the morning traffic, the tooting of motor horns, and all the gay welter of things which marks a Parisian morning in fine weather, only accentuated the silence in the richly furnished salon.
Admaston turned and walked twice up and down the room. Lord Ellerdine was still sitting, guilty and miserable of aspect, in his chair at the breakfast table. Lady Attwill stood quite still where she was, near the window. They were both waiting to hear what should come next. Suddenly Admaston spoke.
"You found Paris very full?" he said in his icy voice.
"Very," Alice Attwill replied; "so we were lucky to get in here."
"Here?" the big man asked.
"Yes; we all stayed the night at this hotel."
"You used to have a very fine old parrot," Admaston said.
There was spirit in the woman. She gave a little toss of her head. "Er—I have her still," she replied.