He paused half-way towards the door.
“There is one thing,” he said, “which we should be wise to recollect—that whatever Cartoner may know or may not know will go no farther. He is a diplomatist. It is his business to know everything and to say nothing.”
“Then, by Heaven, he knows his business!” cried Martin, with his reckless laugh.
There are three entrances to the Hotel de l'Europe, two beneath the great archway on the Faubourg, where the carriages pass through into the court-yard—where Hermani was assassinated—where the people carried in the bodies of those historic five, whose mutilated corpses were photographed and hawked all through eastern Europe. The third is a side door, used more generally by habitues of the restaurant. It was to this third door that Wanda drove the next morning. She knew the porter there. He was in those days a man with a history and Wanda was not ignorant of it.
“Miss Cahere—the American lady?” she said. And the porter gave her the number of Netty's room. He was too busy a man to offer to escort her thither.
Wanda mounted the stairs along the huge corridor. She passed Netty's room, and ascended to the second story. All fell out as she had wished. At the head of the second staircase there is a little glass-partitioned room, where the servants sit when they are unemployed. In this room, reading a French newspaper, she found Paul Deulin's servant, a well-trained person. And a well-trained French servant is the best servant in the world. He took it for granted that Wanda had come to see his master, and led the way to the spacious drawing-room occupied by Deulin, who always travelled en prince.
“I am given for my expenses more money than I can spend,” he said, in defence of his extravagant habits, “and the only people to whom I want to give it are those who will not accept it.”
Deulin was not in the room, but he came in almost as soon as Wanda had found a chair. She was looking at a book, and did not catch the flash of surprise in his eyes.
“Did Jean show you in?” he said.
“Yes.”