In the forecourt of the inn the father appeared.
“Hullo!” he exclaimed. “What is all this?”
He was a rubicund, heavy-jowled gentleman, who by the wheezy exhalations coming from his chest gave the impression of being a chronic sufferer from asthma. Diane laughed.
“I have been through fire and water, my dear,” she said, “and this is my deliverer.”
She explained the whole episode to the landlord, who shook hands with Paul, and they led the girl into a sitting-room at the back of the café. Paul was somewhat diffident about entering this private apartment, but the landlord wheezed:
“Come in, come in, monsieur.”
They sat Diane down on a sofa, and the landlord pulled off her stocking. In doing so he revealed his daughter’s leg as far as the knee. She had a very pretty leg, but the ankle was considerably swollen.
“The ankle is sprained,” said the landlord.
“Will you allow me to go and fetch a doctor?” asked Paul.