"Did you receive a telegram from her after you left Poissy?"
Andrew stared blankly at him, moistening his lips.
"A telegram?" he said. "A telegram?"
"I thought you didn't," replied Radwalader, "and told her so. It seems she sent one, and was surprised you hadn't answered."
"A telegram!" said Andrew again. "Do you realize what that means, Radwalader? Why, it would have made all the difference in the world! A telegram? No, of course I never received it! And I've been—I've been—"
His voice broke suddenly.
"My God! Radwalader, but fate is hard!"
"Fate, in this instance," remarked Radwalader, "is hard—hard cash. Don't let any false quixotism blind you to that, Vane. I've shown you the way out. Think it over, and when you're ready, come to me."
He crumpled his napkin, and rose. He had played. Now it was for Mirabelle to trump the trick.