"It is so long since I saw you, but as you have eight days' leave I can make up for lost time! Would you not like to arrange a meeting for your first morning in Paris? You will go as usual, will you not, to the Army and Navy Hotel, boulevard Barbès? You will find me at half-past eleven to the minute, in the rue de Rivoli, at the corner of the rue Castiglione. We might breakfast together. To our early meeting, then! I send you all my kisses."
The signature was illegible.
Fandor understood the hidden meaning. He was to hand over the design as he had promised; but he had decided to put them off with a concocted design of his own! He must hasten now to the appointed meeting place.
Fandor rose at once. Whilst dressing he decided:
"I shall go in mufti—be Jérôme Fandor, undisguised. Better be on the safe side—this may be an anti-spy trap. Of course I shall miss my rendezvous; but they will not be put off so easily. They will write at once, making a new appointment. Then I shall go as Corporal Vinson, if I think it the wisest thing to do."
Fandor ran down the rickety stairs. He learned from Octave, the hotel porter, that his room had been paid for three days in advance. Saying he would not be back until the evening, probably, Fandor stepped on to the boulevard Barbès, and hailed a cab.
"Take me to the foot of the Vendôme column," he ordered.
Arrived at the rendezvous, Fandor sauntered along, awaiting developments. Presently he noticed in the distance a figure he seemed to know. It was moving towards him.
"My word! I was not mistaken," thought Fandor, watching the young woman. She also was sauntering under the arcades of the rue de Rivoli, glancing at the fascinating display of feminine apparel in the shop windows. Fandor drew aside, watching her every movement, and swearing softly.