That seemed funny, but I didn’t say anything and when she said, “Come in the other room and we’ll have some wine,” I followed her dumbly and drank the wine she offered me.
Aside from the fact that her hair was somewhat mussed and her neck showed several red streaks and unnatural marks, she didn’t look as if she had undergone any titanic struggle—or anything else titanic. I was beginning to wonder just what the devil had happened. I mean, I couldn’t quite figure out what Ben had taken while I was taking the air.
But the Madame interrupted my wonderings to suggest that I take my friend out for a little walk and come back later. “He’s in a stupor now and I don’t feel comfortable with a man like that around. He’ll be all right in a little while.”
So I roused Ben as best I could—which was not very much. He didn’t pay any attention to my shaking and pulling and commanding. But when the Madame began slapping his face and jerking his head back and forth, he opened his eyes and began to come to life. The Madame dropped out of sight and I had no difficulty in getting him out of the place. We walked around for ten or fifteen minutes, Ben’s head clearing a little with every step, and I finally decided that he was presentable again, so we returned to the apartment ... and found the door locked, and there was no answer to my knocking. Ben was all for breaking down the heavy old door, but I dissuaded him and finally got him out and into a rat-trap of a taxi that must have been one of those that helped save Paris a couple of years before.
As we bounced away toward the barracks, I asked him what had happened and “Are you satisfied now?”
For answer he called me seven different kinds of an unmentionable progeny.
So I asked him again, and added, “What became of the major and where did the maid go to?”
“The maple leaf only stayed a few minutes, him an’ his broad.”
“And the maid?”
“She came in and said she was supposed to meet some guy named Keith an’ the boss told her to bring us some champagne before she went.”