“Where was I? Oh, yes, let me see. Have you ever heard of Léonie Blas?”
Madame de Corantin smiled at the sudden question. “Oh yes, the chanteuse. What has she to do with it?”
“Well, you see, Ramsey and Léonie were more or less collés, and Ramsey introduced old Fellowes to her. Soon afterwards Ramsey became Fellowes’ private secretary.”
“Ah!” The exclamation came through Madame de Corantin’s closed lips almost like a sigh. “And Sir Archibald is a very important personage, I believe?”
“Important! They say he runs the whole War Office.”
Madame de Corantin laughed. The sound of it rippled away joyously. It was infectious, and Bobby laughed too.
“Anything more I can tell you?”
“Oh no, thanks. Now let us talk about other things, but I must know this wonderful Mr. Ramsey. You will introduce him to me, won’t you? Ah!” The reason for the exclamation was evident.
Their table faced the entrance, and Madame de Corantin’s seat enabled her to see every one who entered or left the restaurant. Alistair Ramsey was standing in the doorway, waiting for the head waiter to show him to his table. His eyes were fixed upon Madame de Corantin’s face. The look of astonishment Bobby had noticed before had given place to one of mingled surprise and curiosity. He had exchanged his uniform for evening dress, and wore a flower in his buttonhole. A waiter went towards him, and he began threading his way through the diners. Another instant, and he stood beside Madame de Corantin’s chair.
Under the compulsion of a will felt but not expressed in words, Bobby rose as he approached, and introduced him.