“Those people keep at the back. Is Madame alone? That’s what I want to know.”
“Monsieur forgets that I have been three hours away; but I assure Monsieur that here in this town it’s perfectly safe for Madame to be alone.”
“And wouldn’t it be anywhere else? It’s the first I hear of it.”
“In Paris, in our apartments in the hotel, it’s all right, too; but in the Pavilion, for instance, I wouldn’t leave Madame by herself, not for half an hour.”
“What is there in the Pavilion?” I asked.
“It’s a sort of feeling I have,” she murmured reluctantly . . . “Oh! There’s that coupé going away.”
She made a movement towards the window but checked herself. I hadn’t moved. The rattle of wheels on the cobble-stones died out almost at once.
“Will Monsieur write an answer?” Rose suggested after a short silence.
“Hardly worth while,” I said. “I will be there very soon after you. Meantime, please tell Madame from me that I am not anxious to see any more tears. Tell her this just like that, you understand. I will take the risk of not being received.”
She dropped her eyes, said: “Oui, Monsieur,” and at my suggestion waited, holding the door of the room half open, till I went downstairs to see the road clear.