Duncombe moved towards the door.
"I will pay the bill downstairs," he said. "Good night! Think over what
I have said. Ten thousand francs!"
Monsieur Louis stood up and bowed stiffly. Mademoiselle Flossie
ventured to throw him a kiss. Madame smiled inscrutably.
The door closed. They heard him go downstairs. Madame picked up his card
and read aloud.
Sir George Duncombe,
Risley Hall,
Norfolk.
Grand Hotel, Paris.
"If one could only," Madame murmured, "tell him the truth, collect the
money--and----"
"And," Flossie murmured, half fearfully.
Monsieur le Baron smiled!
CHAPTER IX
THE STORY OF A CALL
Mademoiselle Mermillon was not warmly welcomed at the Grand Hotel. The
porter believed that Sir George Duncombe was out. He would inquire, if
Mademoiselle would wait, but he did not usher her into the drawing-room,
as would have been his duty in an ordinary case, or even ask her to take
a seat.
Mademoiselle Mermillon was of the order of young person who resents, but
this afternoon she was far too nervous. During the porter's temporary
absence she started at every footstep, and scrutinized anxiously every
passer-by.
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