A concierge with a davenport! What is the world coming to, thought Goutran.
Finally the good man produced the paper in question, rose colored and perfumed. Goutran tore it open, but did not read it until he reached his own room. The address was in delicate, long letters, the result of lessons from an English master. Who could have sent it? He did not know the writing. But when he glanced at the signature he with difficulty refrained from a cry of surprise. The note was signed, "Carmen de L——." These were its contents:
"Monsieur Goutran—or will you allow me to call you my friend—I must see you at once on matters of vast importance. To-night, at eleven o'clock, I shall expect you. Ring at the side door of the hôtel; my maid will be in attendance. Do not fail, for you and those you love are in danger."
Goutran was amazed. What did these mysterious lines mean? And of whom did Carmen speak when she said "those you love"? He was greatly disturbed, but he was not the man to hesitate.
At ten o'clock he was already walking up and down a street which commanded a view of the Hôtel Laisangy, but he felt none of the emotion natural to a lover going to a rendezvous. He had a feeling of strange oppression. Finally the clock struck eleven. The side door was on the Rue Saint Honoré. Goutran was about to ring the bell, when the door was opened and a hand was laid on his.
"Come this way," said a woman's voice.
It was the curious maid whom we have already seen. She was enchanted, feeling sure that it was a lover she admitted. The stairs were carpeted and dimly lighted. Presently he entered Carmen's boudoir, but she was not there.
"I will notify the young lady," said the maid, with one of those knowing smiles that tell so much.
Goutran was standing with his hat in his hand when Carmen entered. She was very simply dressed in black. Her beautiful face was very pale. Her blonde hair looked like burnished gold. She extended her hand as he advanced with a profound bow.