His aimless gaze wandered toward the door opening on the public hallway, and became fixed upon a triangular shape of white paper, the half of an envelope tucked between door and sill.
Presently he rose and got the thing, not until he touched it quite persuaded he was not the victim of an optical hallucination.
A square envelope of creamy paper, it was superscribed simply in a hand strange to him, Anthony Ember, Esq., with the address of his apartment house.
Tearing the envelope he found within a double sheet of plain notepaper bearing a message of five words penned hastily:
"Au Printemps— "one o'clock— "Please!"
Nothing else, not another word or pen-scratch….
Opening the door Lanyard hailed the hall-attendant, a sleepy and not over-intelligent negro.
"When did this come for me?"
"'Bout anour ago, Mistuh Embuh."
"Who brought it?"