By the time Lily had finished her meal most of the other diners had left. Again the manager himself escorted her to a car, in which she found a respectable-looking, elderly Frenchwoman already seated.
“I should like to pay for my dinner,” she said a little awkwardly.
The man shook his head. “If I allowed Mademoiselle to do that, Count Beppo Polda would indeed be angry with me!” he exclaimed.
As they rolled quickly along, the woman by Lily’s side began talking in a pleasant, easy way. She explained that she was the head chambermaid of the Hotel Hidalgo, and as such had special charge of the Marchesa Pescobaldi’s apartments. She spoke admiringly of Count Beppo. And then she startled Lily by saying something which made it clear that the good woman believed that the young lady by her side was his fiancée.
Lily felt annoyed, and very much taken aback. But as the actual word had not been spoken, she did not feel that she could put the woman right. Still, she did rather go out of her way to say that she was related to Count Beppo’s mother, and that she was only here, at Monte Carlo, on a visit.
When they reached the clearing among the olive trees which, to Lily, always recalled that terrible morning when she found poor George Ponting’s body—she pulled five francs out of her purse, and put it into the chambermaid’s hand.
“I will be sure and tell Count Beppo that I brought Mademoiselle quite safely home,” said the woman meaningly.
Lily made her way slowly up the broad path through the little wood. There was a brilliant moon, and as she emerged on to the lawn she saw the long, two-storeyed house almost as clearly as if it was daylight. So absolute was the stillness that Lily, with a sense of relief, told herself that the eccentric guest had surely gone.
All the windows opening on to the terrace, as was always the case in the evening, were tightly closed, and shuttered too. That meant that she must go round to the front door.
She rather dreaded what she believed was certain to happen—the Count’s quiet surprise at her early return, Aunt Cosy’s vociferous lamentations and expressions of regret at Beppo’s accident among the mountains, and Cristina’s sympathy with her, Lily’s, disappointment. There was a chance that the Count and Countess, who were fond of going early to bed, had already retired. If so, she might postpone the story of what had happened till the next morning.