I shook my head.
"Madame," says I, "I'm very sorry, but I took the first one that came along and answered to the name. It must have been the head waiter's fault."
She clenched her hands and began to step up and down the room, wild with perplexity.
"It was all planned, Britten—all planned. They knew that I should send for Count Joseph, and this villain came from Vienna to thwart me. He must have bribed the servants at the hotel. And now, what do you say to it? I am to be banished from France—he swears it. They have written to Paris, and the decree may come at any moment. I am to be banished, Britten—driven out like a common criminal! Oh, what shall I do? My God, what shall I do?"
That was a question I couldn't answer, but it did seem a wicked thing to treat a woman so, and I wasn't ashamed to admit it.
"Is there any law in France that can turn you out, madame?" I asked. She answered that quickly enough.
"Certainly there is, Britten. I know all about it. They can turn me out at twenty-four hours' notice."
"Why not go to the American Consulate, madame?"
"Oh, you don't understand. If my husband were but here! Oh, they would not insult me then—even if you were my husband, Britten."
Upon my life and soul, I believe that she meant it. There was a look in her eyes as she stood before me which, unless I'm the biggest fool in Christendom, told me what was what plainly enough. A word, and I could have taken that fine lady in my arms. I would swear to it.