Chapter Five.
The Perfumed Card.
We passed from room to room, chatting freely with the old Frenchwoman, who garrulously told me everything I wanted to know, and showed not the least reluctance to discuss her master and his affairs.
I had previously warned Doris to be on the look-out for anything of interest, and, pleased with the idea of helping me, she was keenly on the alert. I was soon to have good reason to bless the lucky inspiration which had led me to fetch her to Mentone at a time when most people prefer to give it a wide berth.
After visiting a number of rooms, we came at last to the front entrance, and the aged housekeeper seemed to think we were leaving. But I had not yet caught sight of Cauvin’s private room, and I knew that unless I saw that my journey would be fruitless.
“It is a very nice house,” I said to our guide, “and the gardens are beautiful. But I have much writing to do, and there does not seem to be any room which would serve well as a study.”
She hesitated obviously. “Well,” she said slowly, “there is monsieur’s private room, but it is locked. If monsieur desires it, I will fetch the key.”
“I might as well see it,” I said, as carelessly as I could. “I must have some private den of my own,” I went on.