It was the Comtesse de Verneuil standing in the doorway and looking in her frightened way into the café: Joanna in dark fitting toque and loose jacket beneath which one saw a gleaming high evening dress. I noted swiftly that she had violets in her toque. Her beauty, her rare daintiness compelled a stupefied silence. I sped towards the door and went with her into the street. A closed carriage stood by the kerb.
She took me by the front of my loose jacket and twisted it nervously.
"Get him out, Mr. Asticot. Tell him I must see him."
"But how did you come here?" I asked.
"I went first to the Rue des Saladiers. The servant told me I should find him at the Café Delphine."
I left her outside, and re-entering, met him in the middle of the Café, grasping his green hat in one hand and the pipe with the porcelain bowl in the other. All eyes were turned anxiously towards us.
"She has come for you, Master," I whispered. "She needs you. Come."
"What does she want with me? It was all over and done with thirteen years ago." His voice shook.
"She is waiting," said I.
I drew him to the door and he obeyed me with strange docility. He drew a deep breath as soon as we emerged on to the wind-swept pavement.