At ten o'clock Mrs. Chedsoye was ready for her pillow. She slept fitfully; awoke at eleven and again at twelve. After that she knew nothing more till the maid roused her with the cup of chocolate. She sat up and sipped slowly. Celeste waited at the bedside with the tray. Her admiration for her mistress never waned. Mrs. Chedsoye was just as beautiful in dishabille as in a ball-gown. She drained the cup, and as she turned to replace it upon the tray, dropped it with a clatter, a startled cry coming from her lips.
"Madame?"
"Fortune's bed!"
It had not been slept in. The steamer-cloak lay across the counterpane exactly where Celeste herself had laid it the night before. Mrs. Chedsoye sprang out of her bed and ran barefoot to the other. Fortune had not been in the room since dinner-time.
"Celeste, dress me as quickly as possible. Hurry! Something has happened to Fortune."
Never, in all her years of service, could she recollect such a toilet as madame made that morning. And never before had she shown such concern over her daughter. It was amazing!
"The little fool! The little fool!" Mrs. Chedsoye repeatedly murmured as the nimble fingers of the maid flew over her. "The silly little fool; and at a time like this!" Not that remorse of any kind stirred Mrs. Chedsoye's conscience; she was simply extremely annoyed.
She hastened out into the corridor and knocked at the door of her brother's room. No answer. She flew down-stairs, and there she saw him coming in from the street. He greeted her cheerily.
"It's all right, Kate; plenty of room on the Ludwig. We shall take the afternoon train for Port Saïd. She sails at dawn to-morrow instead of to-night.... What's up?" suddenly noting his sister's face.
"Fortune did not return to her room last night."