"Madame thinks she has caught cold?" Toinon agreed quietly. "Madame was always too fond of sitting in the open air."
"I knew I was going to be unwell," her mistress observed drowsily, "for last night I could scarce touch my supper. When the palate is affected, things taste quite differently. The good Bertrand sent up some of my favourite cakes, as light as if made by fairies, and somehow they seemed quite coppery. Do something, Toinon; give them to your dog, for the dish is scarcely touched, and I would not have Bertrand think I am ungrateful."
"And you were always so partial to those cakes!" drily remarked Toinon, with a peculiar smile. "Yes, I will give them to the dog."
"First make me some tisane," entreated Gabrielle. "I am languid and feverish, and my throat is parched and burning."
Toinon slowly shook her head and went straight into the adjoining boudoir, where the light refection described as supper was always laid out on a low table. Her movement was so abrupt that had she not been much preoccupied, she could not have failed to perceive the whisk of a black coat-tail, as it disappeared into the long saloon. Had she opened the door four minutes earlier, she would have seen a dapper figure clad in black leaning over the plate that held the confectionery, and have heard a soft voice mutter, "Only half a cake. It must have had a peculiar taste."
As it was, Toinon saw nothing of this, but finding the room empty, moved swiftly to the tray, took up a cake and smelt it. A thin, pale face was watching her through a door-chink with gleaming eyes.
She again shook her head, and murmuring, "Can they be so wicked?" carried the plate away.
Along the corridor she sped, and down the stairs, unconscious of a dark shadow moving noiselessly, till she reached her own apartment. At sound of the well-known footstep, an animal within, hitherto quiescent, began to whine and yelp, and beat itself against the door.
"Patience, patience--poor hound," Toinon said aloud. "Is it wise to be in so great a hurry? Even now, I cannot believe it!"
She turned the handle and the boisterous dog dashed the plate from her hand with its great paws. She picked up two of the cakes which had remained whole, and with the same peculiar smile of meaning she had worn above, watched the hound as he ravenously devoured the fragments. There was still a piece left--a large one--and she pushed it towards him with her foot.