Again there was a pause. Mrs. Greyne looked up at Mrs. Forbes, and observed a dogged expression upon her countenance.
“What is the matter?” she asked the maid.
“Do we go by Paris, madam?” said Mrs. Forbes.
“Certainly.”
“Then, madam, I’m very sorry, but I couldn’t risk it, not if it was ever so——”
“Why not? Why this fear of Lutetia?”
“Madam, I’m not afraid of any Lutetia as ever wore apron, but to go to Paris to be drugged with absint, and put away in a third-class waiting-room like a package—I couldn’t madam, not even if I have to leave your service.”
Mrs. Greyne recognised that the episode of the valet had struck home to the lady’s maid.
“But you will not leave my side.”
“They will absint you, madam.”