"I'm wondering whether there are any letters for me," he said.
"I'll go to the office and inquire," proposed Jack Benson. At the desk he received two letters for his employer, and turned away with them in one hand when his steps were arrested by the sound of a sweet feminine voice at the further end of the desk.
The speaker was Mlle. Nadiboff.
"She looks as sweet and as contented as ever," thought the submarine boy, with some wonder. "Really, she doesn't look as though a care had crossed her path."
"Can you furnish me with a chauffeur, and order my car up?" Mlle.
Nadiboff was inquiring.
"I am very sorry, Mademoiselle, but we haven't a single chauffeur that we can spare," replied the clerk, respectfully.
"Then may I rent one of your own cars, with a man to drive it?"
"Again, I am very sorry, Mademoiselle, but all the hotel cars are engaged."
The pretty Russian stamped her foot impatiently.
"Oh, no matter, then," she cried. "I will go to the garage and take out my own car. I know how to manage it."