For three days Mrs. Montmorency digested her plans and took great pains to avoid meeting her guests. This necessity resulted in some very near shaves; in one case driving her to take refuge in the cistern-cupboard.
Emma was valueless, since she declined to interrogate either Eliphalet or Mornice on the matter of their private affairs, and it was only by accident that Mrs. Montmorency learnt that Mr. Ronald Knight, who visited the house nearly every day, was the gentleman who had recommended them to her tender graces.
This was a happy windfall, for it provided an excuse for offering him her thanks and at the same time drawing from him a little private conversation.
The following afternoon, which was too wet and dark to be of use to the film folk, Mr. Knight returned with Mornice and entered the house.
No sooner did Mrs. Montmorency hear his voice in the sitting-room than she opened the front door and passed out.
There was a broad-minded pastry-cook’s at the corner of the street, where cherry-brandy and sweet wines were dispensed to nervous ladies, and, using this as an observation-post, Mrs. Montmorency sat down to a pleasant hour of waiting.
“Mr. Cardomay out?” said Ronald, warming his hands before the fire.
“Yup. They’re doing the second act—he won’t be in till five.”
Ronald bore the tidings with fortitude.
“You’re going to be awfully good in that film, Morny,” he said.